School Trips

SCHOOL

TRIPS

1st Year Classicists at the National Gallery in front of Titian’s Renaissance painting, ‘Bacchus and Ariadne’

ART TRIP

TO THE NATIONAL GALLERY

On 25th May 2021, 1YS Classicists enjoyed the first post-lockdown Charterhouse trip. Our expedition took us to London to study paintings inspired by Greek and Roman mythology.

In rooms less crowded than usual, pupils enjoyed many famous paintings based upon the works of Classical poets such as Homer, Virgil, and Ovid.

The tour started with two versions of the ‘Judgement of Paris’ by Flemish painter Peter Paul Rubens, in which the Trojan Paris awards the golden apple to Aphrodite, goddess of love, rather than to Athene or Hera. Ominous events in the sky foreshadow the tragic consequences of Paris’ decision. Also on view was Turner’s 19th century ‘Dido Building Carthage’ with its luminous background: Dido, mythical queen of Carthage, guides Aeneas, the hero who survived the Trojan War, around her new city. The painting brilliantly suggests how new empires grow before eventually crumbling.

The two-hour tour concluded with a close look at Titian’s masterpiece. Bacchus, god of wine, leaps from his cheetahdrawn chariot to rescue princess Ariadne, who has been cruelly deserted on the island of Naxos by Theseus – you can even spot Theseus’ ship on the horizon just to the left of Ariadne’s shoulder. Looking up into the ultramarine sky, one can also see the ring-like constellation Bacchus created from Ariadne’s crown.

Before returning to School, the group enjoyed a suitably Mediterranean menu at an otherwise deserted ‘Bella Italia’.

Mr Richard Haynes

JENNIFER PACKER

AT THE SERPENTINE, NOT ONLINE

Since lockdown had allowed me time to research and visit online exhibitions, I discovered Jennifer Packer at the Serpentine gallery, and this became a highlight of my daily online excursions. An artist from New York, this is her first exhibition outside the US. I was drawn to her varied vocabulary of mark-making and her manipulation of paint, through which Packer demonstrates the capacity of a restricted palette to convey her deeply personal and political subject matter.

I focused several Zoom lessons on her, looking at her technique and imagemaking, and then set a project to create a composition combining a portrait with objects to spark a personal narrative. We listened to podcasts of Packer talking about her work and took virtual tours around the gallery space. My own painting was developing at the time, and I was inspired by the physicality of her work and the deep intimacy she depicts. For Packer, the paint is equal to the image-making; it has a life of its own and she controls it in such a way as to inspire an emerging and changing narrative. The more you look, the more you see.

As soon as the gallery opened, I was there, walking through Kensington gardens with a sense of freedom (not felt for a long time) and with a slight nervousness (I was out in London, not online, with limited arrows to follow!). Seeing the works in the flesh, I felt an immediate emotional connection to the observation of life and death depicted through her flower paintings. Packer describes her flower paintings as ‘vessels of personal grief’. Looking was not enough: it was a question of feeling your way through the paint, the layers, and the dissolving images. These ephemeral and absorbing paintings are an exercise in slow looking. Do not walk past or record the work with a quick click of your phone and move on. Absorb the painting slowly, spend time with it, become part of it. I revisited the exhibition three times before the desire to share what I had experienced with the students became a small field trip with five open minded artists who had all suffered through my Jennifer Packer obsession on Zoom. Having not yet been on a Charterhouse Art trip, we all felt how good it was to be outside Studio and the classroom walls learning this is what Charterhouse is about! This is what teaching is about: expanding the mind, sharing thoughts, ideas, colours and shapes, and making memories outside of the classroom; talking about paint, mark-making, life, flowers, politics, and dogs (always dogs). A dog in one of Packer’s paintings slumps on a bed listening at the light crack of a door, suggesting a thousand stories.

Tatiana Winterflood (Su), Harriet McCreanor (Su), Akindu Kodithuwakku Arachchige (V), Freya Jones (Su), and Lucy Jennings (F) were great students: responsive, interested, willing to sit and stare and eat ice cream. Mr Monkman was equally inspiring to be with, shedding light on a different perspective of Packer’s work from his own stance as a painter. I look forward to many more trips next Quarter.

ENDURANCE CHALLENGE WALK

SOUTH DOWNS

At the end of each Cricket Quarter at Charterhouse, The Endurance Challenge (which most former pupils will know as the 50 Mile Walk) kicks off for 1YS, keen to test themselves both physically and mentally.

Because the event had to be cancelled last year, 2YS were given the chance to participate alongside 1YS, only days before the end of their Charterhouse careers. The Carthusian asked two pupils to give their experience of the challenge: Laura Galbraith (F), who walked the 50 miles in a time of 18hr26min, and Lea Wessel-Aas (C), Head Girl, who was brave enough to run the route, posting a time of 12hr3min.

Laura Galbraith (F) Have you got your maps? Have you downloaded What3words and OS Locate? Show it to me! You can’t get on the bus until I’ve seen it! We crouched over our phones and willed the internet to work. You signed a form saying you had downloaded them! Now you’re holding us all up. Ed made a face. Well, we didn’t realise they would actually check, he said. The coach on Wednesday morning eventually left at 10:40, 35 minutes after its scheduled departure. Goodbye, Charterhouse. We swung around the corner and the sandstone disappeared behind rustling foliage. We then drove for about two and a half hours. On the way, we passed a sign welcoming us to East Sussex, and Lucy said we had been driving for ages, it would be a long way back. I remember her reminding me of this comment later: it was 2am and her face was lit from beneath by her phone torch. Even that early in the night she looked exhausted.

We eventually arrived at the starting point. It looked to me very much like the side of the road. Is this it? I heard a boy say behind me. I guess so. We set off jubilantly, walking a little too fast, across the South Downs. Why do they need to be so hilly? Lucy asked me, panting. The view, probably, I panted back. Rolling hills spread out on either side of us, rippling out towards a dusky sea. The wind picked up my backpack straps. It was beautiful. I don’t care, they should’ve made it flat, said Lucy. There were lots of local people on the hills, walking their dogs and children. They appeared unperturbed by the swathes of children filing like ants over the hills. This some charity event? Asked one man with his wife. We replied that it wasn’t: just a challenge. Good luck, he said. Thank you! We were still very bubbly. The boys, Sam, Amir, Ed, and Alex, started to stride ahead. We had been overtaken too many times, and they wanted to get a good time. We watched them disappear over the crest of a hill and joined another group slightly behind us.

The South Downs went on for about 18 miles. We stopped once for ice-cream when we were still with the guys, which we ate staring at the incredible view. We saw a man on an adjacent hill playing the bagpipes and he waved back at us when we shouted hello. I guess bagpipes and hills just go together. By the time we reached the hotel where we would be pausing for homebill, we were all tired,

We stopped once for ice-cream when we were still with the guys, which we ate staring at the incredible view. We saw a man on an adjacent hill playing the bagpipes and he waved back at us when we shouted hello. I guess bagpipes and hills just go together.

sweaty, sore, and very much in need of the pasta and brownies they fed us. In the pretty pub garden, the atmosphere remained jubilant: it was still light, and we exchanged stories with friends from other groups (someone had spoken to the bagpipe man, who was not Scottish, but in fact from Surrey, like us).

We set off again at about 9pm, and we suddenly felt the isolation of the huge fields. We’ll probably remember this night forever, said Lucy. The other group was gone – they had stayed for a longer rest at supper, so it was just the two of us walking up a dusty road. The light over the fields was orange and already felt nostalgic. We crossed onto the old railway track – the Downs Link. Around it was a tunnel made of trees, which the sunset filtered through. Inside we encountered a lady walking her dog, who congratulated us on even attempting to walk fifty miles, and we gave her a Percy Pig: I wouldn’t, but they’re my favourite sweet… Oh, go on then, she said. We gave her another for the road.

Eventually, we joined a group of Second Years, with whom we shared some Redbull. It became twilight. We stopped at a checkpoint and one of the Second Years revealed his horrible blisters. We turned on our headtorches. My feet were starting to hurt. Do you think we’ll get to thirty miles soon, I asked the boy. Map says it’s another few hours yet, he replied. I could tell I was getting blisters. I hoped they weren’t like his. We shared more sweets. The torches bounced around the tunnel of trees. Outside it was totally black. It was midnight, then one, then two. Remember when we passed that sign, said Lucy, we had no idea. We didn’t have any idea then, either. My eyes started to burn. Mr Tully bounced past us, yelling that the thirty-mile checkpoint was only five minutes onward. Five minutes came and went. We caught up with the boys from our original group, now just dark shapes holding torches. Any idea where the checkpoint is, we asked. Not a clue, we think it’s up there, one of them replied. We checked Snapmaps and a bunch of people had all congregated a few hundred metres off the path. When we arrived, twenty minutes after seeing Mr Tully (that wasn’t five minutes, you liar), the mood was starkly different to homebill. It was like a military hospital: one battle over, preparing for the next. The lights were cold and very bright, like in a car park. Everything was beige, and wipeable. People – volunteers – were moving everywhere, shouting, fetching food and drinks and painkillers. The walkers, by contrast, were motionless in their seats. There was a station where you could get your feet strapped. Should I get them done, I asked one of the Second Years. Ignorance is bliss, he said. I saw my chemistry teacher, Mr Johnson. He looked very happy for someone out of his bed at half two, surrounded by broken and odorous teenagers. You should probably keep going, he said. People who rest too long never make it to the end. We got our stuff together and left. On our way out we passed the group we had joined before. We’re finishing at thirty miles, one of them said. I just can’t go any further. We practically ran away from them after expressing brief sympathy, like giving up was contagious.

The night was very dark, and instead of circling round the cricket pitch by the checkpoint we cut straight across. We re-joined the black tunnel of trees. We walked in silence for a bit. One of the Second Years quizzed me on my A-levels. The lights from headtorches in the tunnel bounced, and I started to feel dizzy. We

listened to some music, the boys played rap and Lucy played ABBA. Who has better taste, they asked me. Lucy, I replied, although Dancing Queen sounded eerie at 3 AM. We walked in silence. Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight. Lucy’s phone was very tinny. One of them pulled out some glucose tablets. They tasted horrible. Won’t somebody help me chase the shadows away? We came to another checkpoint, this one lit with orange candles. We refilled our water bottles. Take me through the darkness to the break of the day. How much further, we asked them. Just under twenty miles.

I became aware of every step. Before we got on the coach that morning, the Headmaster told us sometimes people don’t finish because they have an asymmetrical walk. I wondered whether that was me. The tunnel’s light was false and harsh, and it echoed. My entire lower half hurt. My breath began to get shallower. I stopped wanting to talk to the good-looking second year next to me and plugged in my earphones. Billie Eilish – too slow. My rock playlist was too loud. I ended up – and I am not proud of this – listening to the entire track of Hamilton. Alexander Hamilton, what’s your name, man? I started to check the time obsessively. We had been walking for hours, but the minutes dragged. We eventually got to Cranleigh. A nice lady with dyed brown hair and glasses gave me more painkillers. You should probably get up, she said. We were sitting on the floor. My feet really hurt. We got up. We lurched away. Just ten miles to go, she shouted after us.

It’s starting to get light, I said. This was met with silence. Talk less, smile more. I focused on the grey edges of things. Lucy wanted to speed up but stop more frequently. I can’t stop, I said. I won’t be able to start again. The path was very straight and long. King George III drowned out the waking birds. You’ll be back, like before. We were hardly even shuffling. I don’t think I’m going to make it, I said to Lucy. You will, she said. The path turned from grey to brown, and the leaves turned green. The sun glanced off the mist around us. The world turned upside down. How far, I said. But the boy with the map had gone. All alone, across the sea. We arrived in Bramley. Just five miles, guys, they said. We filled our water – this time, none of us sat down – and kept going.

A few cars began to pass us. We walked through a pretty wood and by a deserted golf course. We recognised the places where we had taken photos on the practice walk. I suddenly felt very cold. The mist was burning off the fields. I tried to walk symmetrically. We got to Godalming. We passed a minibus of people who had bowed out. Dr G leaned out of the window: keep going! You’re nearly there. Death doesn’t discriminate between the sinners and the saints. We walked, dizzy slow, up Charterhouse hill. The remaining boy slowed to a halt and then it was just us again, me and Lucy, walking alone through the cold morning. I tried not to shiver. We came under the bridge leading to Brooke Hall, and we staggered up under it, until we were finally on the bridge itself. Charterhouse rose before us. Hamilton died to thunderous applause, ringing in my ears. I took out my earbuds. As we walked towards the arches of Brooke Hall, the teachers waiting there stood up to clap.

Lea Wessel-Aas (C) Starting on the South Downs, a range of chalk hills across England’s south-east coast, the route runs north-west across vast hills, through forests, small towns, and, famously, along a 25-mile-long old railway track, now engraved in the memories of those who have attempted the challenge for stretching on monotonously and endlessly.

My experience of the 50 miles (or 52 with a few wrong turns!) was perhaps somewhat speedier than others.

Together with three friends and crosscountry teammates, I had made the decision to run (and strategically walk parts of) the 50 miles. In the days before we set off, merely thinking about the distance made me dizzy. My running mates will remember me frantically and deliriously going through all the practical details, trying to compensate for my incompatible feelings of complete inaptitude and child-like, all-consuming excitement. No matter how much time put into choosing the right socks, blister plasters, clothing, energy bars, downloadable audio books, and running techniques, there were only a few elementary things that got me to the finish line: good company and a single, clear goal to complete (also, hopefully, with my health intact).

For the first ten miles, we ran past a lot of other walking pupils, chatty and in high spirits, listening to music and cheering each other along. A group of lucky boys had encountered a soft serve van and it looked as though that sugar rush alone could carry them easily for the next 40 miles. Along the way, us runners left our drop bags of food at various stations, with very particular items and cravings – Redbull, Jelly Babies, Hoisin Duck wraps, hazelnut cake, pot noodles, and wasabi peas.

Around mile 20 we entered the old railway track. Dreading boredom and the feeling of being on a treadmill, I remember talking a lot to myself and anyone who would listen. Even when the others were occasionally wearing headphones and zoning out, I would keep talking, or I would call friends.

Surprisingly though, I found neither the landscape nor the running/walking combination monotonous or draining. At the time of sunset, I remember how the colours and the hypnotic group motion (in addition to some probable fatigue) made me feel incredibly serene and grateful to be out and moving, although I understand not everyone shared this particular emotional response.

The first mistake I made was when I started thinking about the finish line. Until then, I had only been concerned with moving forward and making sure no points on my body were signalling potential injuries or pain. But, suddenly, with four kilometres left until Brooke Hall Arch, I started looking forward to the end. I started comparing the distance left to four-kilometre runs I had done before and thought of it as a relatively swift and leisurely distance. However, the difference was I already had 78km in my legs, and my hamstrings were very close to cramping me to the ground. But nothing at that point was more tempting than taking my shoes off, having a shower, and curling up on my bed, and the quickest way to get there was to keep running.

Finally, we came to the finish line, and throughout the rest of the night and the following morning, there was a continuous stream of exhausted and relieved walkers coming in through the arch. The campus resembled a zombie apocalypse in the following two days – with tender, blistered, and sore bodies, we dragged ourselves around, looking for food, a soft chair, or somewhere to put our feet up. The combination of pride, perhaps some shock, and a great deal of relief were quite overwhelming in my state of complete physical and mental exhaustion. Whilst I will not be embarking on another double marathon any time soon, I will not forget this extraordinary experience. It is evidence of what I, like anyone, can do if I set my mind to it.

FOURTH FORM PIONEERS’ TRIP

ROYAL WOOTTON BASSETT, WILTSHIRE

Wales… Wiltshire… Wales… Wiltshire… Charterhouse… Wiltshire… Charterhouse… Wiltshire. After the to-ing and fro-ing of not one but two governments, we settled on the H5 Adventure Headquarters outside Royal Wootton Bassett in Wiltshire as the destination of this year’s Fourth Form Pioneers’ trip. And what a trip it was – a return to form after last summer’s lockdown.

Having dodged some heavy traffic, heavy rain, and a yellow thunderstorm warning, we rolled through the stone circle at Avebury and into the car park of The New Inn at Winterbourne Monkton, where we were greeted warmly by the H5 Adventure team. After a quick briefing over lunch, the groups set off into the Wiltshire wilderness, overloaded with enthusiasm and hand-sanitiser. Three days and three nights of trekking and team building ensued…

With the exception of one or two wounded warriors, the boys covered over thirty miles in this time – no mean feat with their packs on their backs and the countryside bombarding them with a battery of pollen. Conditions underfoot were soggy too, especially on the first afternoon, and the wet grass mercilessly lashed any uncovered legs. But the boys kept trucking. And their rewards came soon enough: all the campsites on the trip were beautiful or luxurious or both. Without a doubt, the jewel in the crown was the spot by the willowy lake behind Upper Ham Farm: here the boys cooked and camped in view of some shaggy longhorn cattle and of the white horse chalked into the hillside above, while owls hooted in the trees and fish splashed in the water.

Some of the boys did their fair share of the latter too, whether falling from the rafts they had built or tumbling from the bridges they had engineered. Given his acrobatics on the bridge-crossing, Nikita Vishnyak (G) could probably qualify for any Olympic gymnastics team; it was Michael Montague (R), though, who made the only successful river-crossing, even if he did spend half of his journey on the riverbed, knee-deep in mud and reeds. The boys also developed their sharpshooting skills on the archery range and the woodland trail, and tested their fear of heights on the cave-ladder climb.

Cooking trout and marshmallows (not at the same time) on an open campfire proved to be another popular activity. No surprises there: extra food always seems to go down well with teenage boys on expeditions in the Great Outdoors. Let’s just wait and see how many of them offer to take on the barbecuing duties at home this summer.

All in all, the boys acquitted themselves superbly on this trip – a culmination of their enthusiastic and productive approach to school life across the year – and special mention should go to Mr Dobson’s winning team (Michael Montague (R), Matthew Rhee (R), Jai Chatterjee (R), Luke Leavett-Shenley (R), Xavier Guerlain-Desai (R), Andile Thabethe (D), Shae Ibrahim (D), Fraser Armitage (D), Jack Perei (g), and Caspar Wood (S)) and to the most valuable team players of the week (Matthew Rhee and Nikita Vishnyak). Well done to all involved, though, and I really hope it will be the start of a lifelong enjoyment of the natural world for some. Thanks as well to the members of staff on the trip: Mr Paul Webb and the H5 Adventure team, Mr Dobson, Mr Tink, Mr Ellis-Woodley, and Miss Struttmoore.

Mr Charlie Sparrow

DUKE OF EDINBURGH AWARD

UNITED KINGDOM

I don’t think I need to remind anyone how strange and disruptive the last sixteen months has been. Not only did we receive the saddening news that our founder, HRH Prince Philip, had passed away, but also that schools across the country were having to start postponing (or even cancelling) expeditions altogether due to Covid restrictions, leaving hundreds without the chance to complete their award. But we were determined to find a way...

Things started to look promising for the end of March and we even dared to start planning routes and dates, but once again, the Covid hydra reared its ugly heads, forcing us to postpone to CQ. We were, however, eventually able to get our award programme back on track. It was a very busy time for all participants, leaders, assessors, and supervisors. To get everyone through we had to sacrifice a great deal of our spare time, but we did it gladly.

Our priority was to assess those pupils whose expeditions had been delayed from last summer. At long last, we could dust off the kit and venture outdoors for the first time since October 2019! Our busy schedule began with the Gold Paddling and Trekking Expedition. Many of us associate DofE with encountering lost, haggard teens on afternoon dog walks, but some of our Carthusians elected to paddle their expedition, taking to the water rather than trudging the beautiful Surrey grasslands like their trekking counterparts. The trekkers, however, performed amazingly, navigating local routes under the sun. Meanwhile, in Chichester Harbour, the paddlers thrived, fulfilling their expedition requirements with assurance and enthusiasm.

In early May, last year’s Silver trekkers were also assessed on the Surrey Hills, despite our original intentions to take them further afield. It’s always frustrating when plans change, but all pupils were remarkably adaptable and even seemed to be enjoying their expeditions! It is with a sigh of relief that they can now work towards finally completing their awards.

This year’s Gold and Silver cohort completed their practice expeditions with aplomb and maturity, despite an unfortunate lack of practical training and, for the Gold award candidates, utterly miserable weather. Their assessment in the Lake District was rather warmer though, reaching highs of a sweltering (for the British) 24°C. Heat presents various risks for walkers, so the pupils had to make sure they followed treelines and kept their water bottles topped up over the four days. But rewarding views under clear skies, wild camping, and the sense of achievement made this expedition a memorable and worthwhile experience. A dizzying array of Becks, Tarns (Sprinkling or otherwise), Crags, and Gaps are now forever imprinted on adventurous Carthusian minds. Special thanks must go to Carlotta Ossini (C) for some wonderful photos, as well as to Lucas Brenninkmeijer (R) and Binghua Wu (V) for acting above and beyond the call of duty in helping a member of their group out.

Local campsites were either shut or full when it came to the Silver assessment in the Surrey Hills, so groups would have to begin and finish each day on Carthusian soil. Moreover, this was the hottest UK-based expedition we had ever run – the first day reached 28.5°! The heat stuck around for the entirety of the expedition, making the pupils’ feats of endurance all the more impressive. It came as a small consolation that they

could return at the end of each day to the comfort of the Charterhouse fields for some much-needed R and R: playing football, cooking meals, and chatting before crawling into their tents for the night.

After the expedition in Chichester Harbour, it was now time for the Gold Paddling Assessment. We met at Gatwick after an uncomfortably early start (6am) for a flight to Inverness – we were headed for the Summer Isles. After paddling 15km on the first day, we reached Horse Island. But as we hauled up the kayaks and laid down our paddles, we looked to the sky and read the signs of a storm. In a flurry of canvas and rope, we had just managed to take cover under tents and tarps before the flash of lightning and the rumble of thunder filled our eyes and ears. We woke the next morning to clear skies and a gentle easterly wind and set out questing after caves and inlets, spotting seals as we split the sea under blue skies. Besides the occasional storm, midges were the other great menace, but driftwood fires kept them roaring quietly at bay. When the last day arrived, tired arms took us back to fresh clothing and spring beds. It was strange to think that we would never see many of these pupils in School again – they had now graduated and were looking forward to a long summer before university. I hope their future Odysseys are just as exciting as ours was!

The final expedition of the year to the Cairngorms was in fact an OC expedition; last year’s Gold trekking cohort had been unable to complete their assessment in the summer of 2020. The group was small, comprising only of two very recent OCs, Henry Riddoch (S21) and Henry Wilkinson (W21), alongside Kit Nelson (D17), the expedition medic, and Sam Martucci (g19). Despite poor weather forecasts for the first day, the trekkers set off in sunshine. That day gave an indication of the sort of terrain the pupils would be facing – boulder fields, river crossings, and undulating paths. Stopping for the night at a bothy, everyone was in their tents by 8.30pm with no hope of any phone reception – possibly the only young men to be in bed before the second half of the Euro Cup Final! The next day was tough, though herds of reindeer, remote paths and sublime views of the clouds and hills below reminded us why we had come. A hard push on the third day brought the expedition to a pithy conclusion on the fourth. The group retired quickly to a café to eat some proper food.

I would like to thank all of the pupils, beaks, assessors, and supervisors who made this possible, including Mr Massey, Dr Snell, Mrs Nelson, Mrs Higgins, Mr and Mrs Tully, and Mr Freeman, not to mention Mr Brian Mennie, our Health and Safety Officer, who guided us with sage advice through prolonged periods of uncertainty and frustration.

CCF

UNITED KINGDOM

Activity Week

The new CCF recruits enjoyed a fantastic spread of activities this year. Despite the challenges posed by Covid, restrictions on training, and the lack of availability of MOD resources, all sections managed to conduct training that was pertinent to their individual service. The sections trained independently for three days, focussing on the specific skills of their individual services before joining together for a brief visit to Brookwood Military Cemetery and a Service of Remembrance at the graveside of Lt Mark Evison, Welsh Guards (R 2000).

The Royal Navy chartered a yacht to sail the Solent and around the Isle of Wight; the RAF conducted Adventure Training and a Range Package as well as Flight Simulation, all delivered by a visiting team of RAF instructors; and the Royal Marines and Army conducted a field training and tactics exercise. Despite all the signs over the weekend of apocalyptic weather, the clouds held for training over the week.

Ordinarily, the week is used as an opportunity to complete all the remaining elements of the Cadet Basic Syllabus, and although this hasn’t quite been achieved (due to lost training time during the pandemic, and the continued restrictions on training from the MOD), all the cadets achieved elements of their syllabus, learned a lot, and had fun to boot! Throughout the week, the cadets were excellent company and displayed commitment to their training and an excellent humour. All the staff were impressed with their conduct, attitude, and the progress they made.

The CCF must say bon voyage to three departing officers this year; Capt A Aidonis (Army), Lt JC Troy (RN) and Dr JM Pearson (RAF), all of whom have contributed massively to the success and life of the Contingent, in some cases over many years! I wish them all the very best for the future.

Summer Camp

A number of both Army and Royal Marine cadets departed for the annual 11 Brigade Summer Camp at Longmoor this year. The format of the week was to be very different due to Covid restrictions, but the team organising the event was determined to offer a fun and challenging week to the cadets attending. We were very lucky, as much of the cadet summer programme across the country had already been cancelled and both the cadets and staff were very appreciative of the efforts by the Cadet Training Team (South East) to deliver a package.

Day One was Adventure Training, based on Hawley Lake and Training Area by Gibraltar Barracks, Royal Engineers. The day was split in two, beginning with the wet activities (raft building and racing, kayaking, and paddle-boarding). Even the SSI, CSgt Wilson, was persuaded by the cadets and his old colleagues from the Training Team to participate and only fell in once! The afternoon was allocated to dry activities: mountain biking, climbing, and archery. Considering that the 1YS had only just completed their 50-mile Endurance Challenge, they threw themselves into the activities despite the blisters and pulled muscles!

Day Two was ranges, and the cadets got their first opportunity to live-fire the L98A2 in 18 months. The scores were impressive, as was the standard of their weapon-handling, both commented on favourably by the directing staff. We achieved the highest score for a contingent so far with many of the cadets and all the staff achieving the highest possible score. Shotguns followed, and the opportunity to blast clay pigeons from the sky was well received by all. It was excellent to see that we maintained our reputation amongst the Training Team and other schools as marksmen! Day Three was fieldcraft, lessons in observation and patrolling, followed by section attacks using paintball guns, which lend an extra urgency to the need to adopt covered firing positions for the cadets and appreciation of what happens when you don’t! Training In Built Up Areas (TIBUA) followed, and the cadets benefitted from some of the most experienced instruction available in the Army in house clearing drills. The use of pyrotechnics always adds a sense of realism and the energy, enthusiasm, and excitement were palpable. Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics (STEM) challenges followed, giving the opportunity for the cadets’ grey-matter to be stretched as they raced to complete a number of theoretical and practical challenges, including the building of a working catapult without instructions. The cadets were then transported to 1917 and asked to solve puzzles to get them through an escape room and tunnel complex so they could successfully deliver a set of de-coded orders to troops on the front line.

Day Four was survival. The cadets were lucky to have a day devoted to the priorities of survival: shelter, food and water, fire, and protection. Lessons in building improvised shelters, collecting and purifying water, trapping for food, and firelighting were taught by expert soldiers of the Jungle Warfare Training School. The cadets built A-Frame beds strong enough to support even the weight of the Contingent Commander! Unsurprisingly, we’ve already confirmed with the cadets that Long Walk is not the appropriate place for traps!

It was fantastic to be out training again and the cadets benefitted from the real imagination and creativity in the activities that had been put together by the Training Team. They all seemed to have enjoyed the week and have already put their names down for Camp 2022, when we will be returning to the traditional venue, Crowborough Camp in Sussex. My thanks go to Capt Burrell Taylor, CSgt Wilson, Sgt Godden, and Sgt Richards for their hard work in administrating and accompanying the Contingent on Camp. Without them it would not happen.

Bring on Camp 2022!