Suffice to say, a 60km walk over 3 days, twice over, doesn’t sound like the most hellish pursuit, and it wouldn’t have been, if it weren’t for our rucksacks! It is in unanimous agreement that the hardest part of our expeditions, minus the horse, cow, and bull attacks on rucksacks, falling into bogs and having to be pulled out, and going 4km off track, was that of carrying our weight in supplies, plus our tents… It was truly grueling. If it weren’t for our (attempted) channeling of Chappell Roan, Charli XCX, and the likes, through our heavily tone-deaf screeching, that may be subjectively described as ‘singing’, our blisters may have gotten the best of us - fortunately, we didn’t submit ourselves to the wilderness and made it through,
however tired and distraught we ended up. Once we had made it to the campsites, and set up our tents, sleeping bags, roll mats, cooked our food (which was more often
than not, easy-cook pasta) and freshened up, we entertained ourselves by putting on talent shows, and telling ghost stories by an imagined fire. Through everyone’s shared hysteria, we witnessed a slightly vulgar, modern-day adaptation of An Inspector Calls, and many dance routines, the most memorable being Miss Guy, Miss Wood, and Mr Reynold’s collection of, erm, moves..? Overall, this memorable experience offered something we wouldn’t find anywhere else: from the constant rain, and
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