They say all good things must come to an end, never truer in is case. We had some good times, but it was obvious that it was in bad health when Jay, Sheila, Chef and Doc left. We seemed to draw the short straw with who we got after they left. It all started back in 2005 when I was still in scouts. Not much happened for a while, we went on a walk in Lancashire somewhere around Lancaster if I remember rightly. That was alright; highlight being finding a skeleton of a lamb with wool on it.

Then came the big one. The full on expedition. It was a right laugh. We started in a place called Rimington. We being me, Ste Woods, Mike Carter, The Pube, Frankie, Dave and Hooton. Luckily for us the weather was unbelievably brilliant. It was a proper April weather. So lathered up with sun cream, especially me, being the ginger of the group; we set off and off we set. everything went swimmingly until we got to a field full of cows and one or two people got a bit frightened because a cow was standing in the way of a bridge we needed to cross, so we paced backward and forward, despite my suggestion of walking at it until it moved, after all its a fucking cow, until it did the noble thing and fucked right off. We then got to a derelict farm house next to the railway in the beautiful Lancashire countryside, near our first village stop of chatburn and had some lunch. After around half and hours break, still ahead of time. We carried on about 10 minutes later, and after walking past the boundary in a game of village cricket we got to the banks of the River Ribble. We followed the meandering river for 3 glorious miles until we reached our campsite, Waddow Hall. We set up our tents with varying degrees of success. As per usual Sefton Youth Service providing us with dodgy kit. After setting up our tents we had a game of footy with Chef and Doc for a bit to tire our selves out so we would sleep well. After a wee explore, in every sense of the word 'wee'. I stumbled across a vending machine, the rules state that you can't buy things on your expedition, so up yours Meiling. We all went down to the River bank, and for some bizarre reason we decided to have a snowball fight, keep in mind it was April, so there was no snow, we just used the logical thing instead (rocks the size of kettles, I couldn’t think of anything better to compare the size to. Sorry.) After some tea on the Tranjas, we found some decent grass to play footy on. Tempers were running short after a long day and Ste toe-pegged me in the arse, keep in mind he was wearing Walking boots, and they're pretty hard. It fúcking killed. I was absolutely pissing meself when the ball went over this fence (only a little one) and Chef bailed over the fence after it, not realising that there was a big fuck off hill on the other side, he went flying. Absolute comedy. We went to bed not long after it went dark. We were well aware that the next day would be 10 times as hard.

It didn’t disappoint. I think we got up around 6. Sat around for a bit, cause we were all aching to fuck. However we simply had to press on, we had much further to walk than the previous day. So after a spot of breakfast we packed up, always harder to do that getting the stuff out and set up. It’s the fitting it all back in the rucksack that’s the bugger. We set off then, just skirting the Ribble briefly and then things started to go a bit wrong. We were meant to be heading towards Pillings, but ended up in Waddington. A whole KM in the wrong direction. So, rather than try and find the right footpath; we decided to go along the road to Pillings. Once we had arrived we had a brief break before we set off through a farm yard and into the next field, we were back on track. Then things started getting slightly comical. Firstly, I climbed over a stile (that’s not the funny part), I walked about a yard or so (still not the funny part) and got ragged back and went flat on me arse (there you go). I’d got proper tangled up on a fence post. Of course rather than help me everyone just stood there laughing. Cockwipes. Once we’d crossed the next field we had to descend into a steep valley and cross a stream using stepping stones. After a brief discussion and psyching ourselves up, we decided the best thing to do would be to carefully cross it one by one, not using the moss covered, slippery, dangerous stepping stones, but by carefully walking through the 2inch deep water. Of course Hooton had to be different and use the stepping stones, but he got his just deserts when he slipped and fucked his hip (and iPod) on a rock. After trekking up the hill and back into the open farmland we ended up in a massive field at the top of the hill. We found a tree and sat off underneath it snacking on nuts and seeds (great energy boosters on long walks, don’t you know?). The view of the Ribble valley below was simply breathtaking. About 10 minutes later we carried on northwest, through a forest and into another field of sheep. After all but Frankie and Hooton crossed the stile out of the field the sheep decided to charge at them. Frankie panicked and totally missed the stile and went on her arse. At about 12noon the weather took a turn for the worst and the general mood of everyone started to slide downhill, people were getting pretty snappy. We eventually made it to a point where we had to cross the Ribble, by ford. We looked and looked and looked, but to no avail. We decided the best course of action would be to simply wade through the fast flowing, swollen-by-the-rain river. (un)luckily no one fell in. Practically everyone nearly did. All of our boots got soaked, but thank the lord we were on the final stretch now. We arrived at our finishing point to a warm reception from the leaders. We all piled into the van and set off home singing along to the d of e official theme tune: Come on Eileen by Dexy’s Midnight Runners.

To Be Continued...