“I hate this. I want to go back to the centre. There’s no bog…..” Ten teenagers all complaining at once, using some fairly strong language, as they had been for the past half hour. Actually some had been complaining for the past few days. “I’m not staying here – its filthy” “I don’t want tea – it looks horrible”, “We all have to sleep on the floor – in the same room”, “Matt says the loo is that spade – uurgh!”, “My spare clothes are wet – and my new kit is covered in mud” And so on….

The walk had taken us most of the day, walking up over the big, wide high level ridge and then turning right and descending the steep valley to our nights accommodation. We had started off in hot conditions, scrambling up through the deep bracken and then the really steep rocks. The view was non-existent, and some people were tired having not had much sleep the previous few nights and were sulking or arguing with each other. As we got to the top of the first peak, one of the lads was out in front, showing us all the way. At least he was having a good time.

From there on the weather was getting worse, until we finally had to resort to some careful work with the compass and regular head counts in the mist. I have to agree that the last part of the ridge was grotty, wet and cold. Poor Jackie then fell in the bog on the last leg down the valley to the bothy. The bothy was basic by some standards, luxurious by others. It had an upstairs sleeping area, a wood burning stove and a kitchen side. Someone had dragged up a few chairs and tables, and there is always the visitor’s book to read and laugh at. Upon arrival the group raced round, exited to be here, exploring everything. Soon the complaining started – one of them asked for the loo. I don’t think the answer of “see the trees over there, well take the spade, go into the edge of the wood…” was the answer that she wanted. Neither were “we all sleep upstairs together” or “you have to all cook your own food and don’t forget to wash up…” We waded through tea, got fire going and started to clear up after ourselves. The arguments continued, some of the group were turning on each other.

I sat in the doorway, looking out into the gloom of the early evening and mist. Why were we here? Most of these kids saw the hills as a nice view as they walked down Sauchiehall Street – and they didn’t even get to see them today. We were miles from the minibus, and they weren’t up to walking out tonight. They were tired, ill at ease, probably scared and definitely did not want to be there. They had come on a holiday – someone had raised the money for them to come – not to be miserable. What were we thinking of? “Oh, you will enjoy it”. How do you befriend someone who resents you bringing them out to this foreign place that they hate? How do I witness Jesus’ love when they won’t speak to me? Would they go away with a view of God’s Kingdom being a smelly bothy? Why do we take youngsters from the place that they feel comfortable? Many people use the day out, the residential or outdoor experience to help in their outreach but do we really understand why we use this tool?

Eleven o’clock. The group had calmed down after tea, some of them had helped light the fire, others had made hot chocolate for everyone, someone put a load of candles out to light up the pitch-black room. Mind you they had too much energy to go to sleep – they had started to get wound up, chasing each other round, up and down the ladder, throwing things. I glanced outside – HEY, it was bone dry, the full moon was out, wow. Let’s go for a walk! “You must be joking” “Get off”. No, we were going out. As we set out for the walk the group fell into a line across the path though, not behind. A few were nervous. We turned the torches off – and could see really well. We started to chat and joke and laugh about the day, and when Tom had fallen out of the canoe, and when Kylie had gone down the Zip wire screaming her head off! And when…. We got back at one or two (I did not notice). We had spent ages throwing rocks into the loch, teaching them how to ‘skim’, using sticks as targets. Shouting, yelling playing hide and seek. Talking about their lives, our lives. The other instructors agreed – that was the highlight of the week. The following day we walked back to the bus, face on into a gale and heavy rain. No one complained, we were all larking around, chatting, sharing sweets around. We got back exhausted to the centre, had a shower and gathered round the fire to warm up – and laugh at the other group who had set off this morning to go and stay in a bothy….

Do we really understand some of the youth work tools and contexts that we use? Was I in control of the situation? I did nothing different, yet the breakthrough in relationship on that midnight walk was total. Does relating to a child or young person on the street, meeting them ‘where they are at’, make any difference? Does territory, environment and context make much difference? What difference does working in the outdoors make, if any? Was this night out alienating or a shared, common experience? How can we create the common, shared experience on ‘neutral’ territory without having to go on such an extreme trip?

Perhaps one young person’s voice is a powerful reminder of the importance of place in youth work…

When I'm here
I feel at peace
Nobody to annoy me.
My tension is released
I never feel lonely,
Or ever left out.
Everyone is friendly
And mucking about.
Anyone can stay here
And feel the same as I.
You forget about your problems -
Above them you will fly.