Dougie’s Stag Party

By Bob Campbell
Canoeing, like party going, is an activity which justifies itself, and gives
pleasure of quite a different kind. Both of course are all the more
enjoyable given some objective or reason, and therefore what more could
be desired than a weekend trip by canoe on our loveliest loch to attend
a party on the occasion of Dougie’s last weekend as a bachelor.

I had left home that day, not knowing of the party, and consequently
not prepared for an overnight stay on Inchmurrin. However, in the best
tradition of the weekending fraternity I was soon presented with food
and a sleeping bag to entice me to attend the party.

Being a little disorganised and not very experienced at loading my

canoe, I was last to set off, therefore suffering the additional penalty of
having to lock up the boathouses. By the time I reached the campsite
everyone had gone, so without bothering to pitch my tent, I changed
hurriedly into my party clothes, corduroys and commando boots and set
off at a cracking pace along the half mile of shore to the opening among
the trees, leading to the easiest route across the island to the Hotel. This
is the lowest part of the ridge, marking the highland boundary fault
which runs the length of the island, and it is the crossing of this part of
the ridge which is never seen in quite the same light on the return journey.
The final 100 yards to the Hotel is downhill all the way and by the time
I arrived I was ready to slake the thirst which I had taken a great deal of
trouble to acquire.

The party was in full swing at one end of the sun lounge and around
the tables were gathered some well known faces together with many
other past and present members whom I had not previously met. Such
occasions invariably attract a much better turnout than the A.G.M!
Dougie , without whom this party would not have been convened was
seated at one end of the table and presided over the proceedings in his
own quiet and unruffled manner. To my relief, since by then I was also
very hungry, a large plateful of sandwiches was brought to the table, and
in no time with some help from me, a few crumbs remained to testify to
their earlier existence.
 The membership does not lack a number of excellent singers and to
back them up there are some who also, and some who only, know the
words. Speaking for myself; having the greatest difficulty in
remembering the words of any song, I might say with some truth that
my singing is far better than my memory! To return to our songsters, I
find it impossible to describe in words the pleasure of that closing hour
when all these talents combined to work on some of our sweetest songs.
The journey back to camp is naturally a little more hazardous in the dark,
and undertaken usually in quite a different spirit. The chief obstacle is
an electrified fence which must be got over or under without touching
the wire and which under normal circumstances is negotiated with sober
cunning. Returning from the Hotel, however, and possessed by
unnatural courage, some lads take this fence scissors fashion, blissfully
unmindful of the awful risk they run. My method of clearing this devilish
obstacle is to do a series of barrel rolls at zero feet, beginning a few yards
away from the fence and ending halfway down the hill, when I am quite
certain there is no risk of contacting the fence I stand up. There is a
risk of course that you overshoot and land in the loch, which is shallow
anyway at that point, or that your best clothes may be soiled by contact
with some fertiliser.

A few of our party made the return journey to camp in Hamish’s dingy,
by rowing round the Southern tip of the island and arriving somewhat
later than the main party. Their vulnerability, being fully clothed and
surrounded by water was a great temptation to the mischievous spirits
among us and soon a reception party suitably undressed was arranged
in the shallows, just offshore. The attackers, guided by the splashing of
oars and the chatter, waylaid the unsuspecting crew and showered them
with armfuls of water. This was all good clean fun and although the
night was dark, made an exciting spectacle as warring pairs, showered
in spray, were caught in the flickering lights of our camp fire.

All inhibitions removed, the sodden warriors stripped to the buff and
stood in a circle drying off by the heat from the fire. Surveying this
splendid sight, I thought of the nudists, said to inhabit this part of the
world, and wondered if our club would now qualify for affiliation.

As is usual after such bursts of activity there is a lull during which

everyone relaxes or retires to lick one’s wounds, and it was during the
ensuing quiet as most of us lay sprawled around the fire , that Hamish
must have decided that we should all exercise our intellects for a change.
Still rubbing his beard vigorously with a towel, he announced that the
subject for the evenings discussion would be “What is our purpose in
life?”.

Under such a heading it would be difficult to rule any contribution as

out of order, and consequently the discussion which followed ranged
from the bombing of the town of Guernica during the Spanish Civil war
to the state of marriage. To a few of us in the company both subjects had
touched our lives in some degree and although not directly related were
relevant to the subject heading.

In other circumstances a discussion like this would be terminated

prematurely by the need to catch the last bus home, or to allow the
neighbours some peace and quiet. No such considerations intruded on
this occasion! Personal inclination and stamina determined bed time for
each one of us, I surrendered at 04.00 hours, my last recollection being
the sound of two or three still debating as I snuggled into my sleeping
bag.....

A few minutes later, or so it seemed to me, my sleep was ended by the

rattle of dixies and the noise of a primus stove being pumped as my
neighbours in the adjoining tent started to prepare breakfast. Unable to
sleep any longer, I got up to have a look at the new day. My attention
was attracted to the scene of our all night sitting, where two bodies lay
huddled close to the remains of the fire, fast asleep, I wondered which
one of them had the last word.

Bob Campbell Spring 1967.