Wild Boys Never Lose It

Somewhere within the deep mountainous roads of the Lake District, a loud bellowing of singing could be heard for miles on end. And as the lyrics to Gold by Spandau Ballet were being belted out, many in the surrounding area perhaps believed it to be a reformation, an emergence of the late 1980's synthpop and funk band. But all hope was once abandoned as dog-walkers and carefree joggers witnessed a convoy of 3 cars carrying a group of 8 lads towards a perfect campsite destination.

Coniston.

The bastion of all Lake District towns and villages. A place where you can see for miles but feel like you are within touching distance. A place in which sun and rain come hand in hand. A perfect paradise in your own backyard.

It has become a ritual of mine and several others that each Summer we go on a 3 day camping trip. For the past 3 Summers I have sat beside a fire in the dead of night, in total peace but never felt more excited. I class our trip as something to look forward to each year... Where you can just 'let go' and enjoy the simpler things in life. No need for a TV or a gaming system; instead all you need is a fire, the odd bit of rain, a whole lot of sunshine and a lake. One big, intimidating, beautiful lake. I find it incredibly hard to describe in words just how much I enjoy being outdoors, under a bright yellow sun or a star filled sky. But once you are there, you feel no need to express how much you love the place but instead just take it in and revel in every moment in which you have there.

Coniston is a beautiful place, it's somewhere I think everyone should visit at some point in time but a place where many don't. In a country where more and more buildings are being constructed, buildings that are more often than not, put in place for others to gaze at in amazement. Such ideas confuse me, especially when there are emerald green hills, and magnificent forests full of so many different trees that have been there for possibly centuries. I have also always considered that it is the people that make the places... And I feel that if you were to approach 10 people in the Lake District, you'd find it hard to dislike them. Relaxed, polite and humble are some of the ways in which I would describe the inhabitants of the Lakes. They are people that have earned their place living there.

When 8 young lads turn up and seemingly disrupt this homely feeling in a place that has a sense of being untouched by any commercialised business plans, you have to wonder if you are out of your depth. All worries are quickly dispatched when you come to the realisation that everyone out in the Lake District just wants to enjoy the things you are there to enjoy. Sharing quality time with friends or family in the open atmosphere of freedom.

So, obviously as soon as you get there you instantly want the best spot on the campsite. It's a subject we all discuss whilst on our way down and I believe becomes harder every year due to there being more of us or just wanting to improve on what we have already experienced. Nevertheless, we approach the situation with a calm head and a slice of optimism. This year had to be the best. Without a doubt in my mind. Our little pitch which we came across due to our meeting of a pretty awesome guy who went by the name of GT Dave (the previous year) was our first thought. Sat atop a little mound, quite a way from the rest of the site and providing us with much cover from anyone wishing to be nosey.
All of our tents set up in a semi-circle with wind breaks blocking off the front entrance. Just to add risk to our little endeavour, there was a slight muddy patch in the middle that according to one person in the group would "go up and over once it starts to pour". We had a chuckle and ignored, like you do, not letting anyone spoil the fun.

When you are done with all the usual setting up of the site and indulging in some of the more finer cuisine purchased prior to arrival; you aim to participate in one thing. Getting out on the lake, swim or dinghy. It simply doesn't matter how you get out there, as long you admire just how free you feel when you have around 50m of water beneath you and 800m to the other side. I also doubt you have experienced cold water until you are up to your neck in the stuff and desperately trying to push a dinghy along whilst someone is inside it with one paddle.
No matter how you approach your time next to the lake, you can always see how many other people just want to be there as well. From children skimming stones, to a few amateur kayaks seeing how fast they are against an increasing current, and then a couple enjoying the breeze under a lake side tree. It sort of feels right, lying down on the grass even though you are surrounded by people who are totally different from yourself.

All of the days antics lead to the mystifying night. And night time is something of a blessing. You are not supposed to light open fires on the campsite apparently but we do each year. They are always something a bit special and regularly get out of hand. Usually down to a bottle of white spirit and a couple of cans of beer. It's all good fun and it won't be ruined by a bit of rain. An interesting aspect of the Lakes is that when it rains, it certainly does pour. But again, you get on with it and prevail with a bit of help from a gazebo.
Once that very helpful gadget is in place the celebrations continue, in a drunken lary fashion accompanied by a whole range of music.

If you have ever been camping you may have noticed that despite whatever sleeping pattern you have, you always sleep earlier than usual and nights seem to drag. Nights dragging is by no means a bad aspect of the trip as you want it to last forever, but when you look at the time due to it being pitch black and notice it is only 10:30 pm you don't half wonder what the hell is going on. And like all nights, they must end with you hitting the sack and waking up the next morning for some delightful selection of BBQ breakfast.

The following day and night comprised of another trip to GoApe and a raving fire that threatened to burn a drunken friend. They are all great memories and I feel that I could type forever but I suppose, in a selfish sort of way, that some memories should be kept to yourself. Memories that you want to share with just you and those there because I guess if you do this, you remain in that little bubble where you were all free and didn't have a care in the world.

Every bubble bursts in the end. But I'll pray it doesn't for just a little longer.

"Take me to the docks, there's a ship without a name there, It is sailing to the middle of the sea. The water there is deeper than anything you've ever seen, jump right in and swim until you're free."