Raasay 1982.

Unfortunately the S.H.S report does not list the members present on this trip and there is no Leader report as such, so I have copied a couple of the articles from the report and extracted what names I can - often just the first name. I have also been through the 1984-5 members list and picked out anyone with Ra82 after their name, but this is both tedious and possibly incomplete! (It depends whether they remained members until '84)

Leader:- Chris Venning

ALs and members:- Steve Paynter, Mike Osbourne, Richard J Butterworth, Phil Genge, Mark Harris, Ian Whitworth, A Adams, D Andrew, N Benson, P Betty,

Andrew Blannin, S Brown, S Delaney, Rachel Gooberman, Steven Hobbs, P Hooper, C Jessup, K Jessup, V Johnson, A Keith, S Kellet, K Laport,

Heather Linley, A Marston, I Martin, S Morcom, J Morton, A Munro, C Pattison, T Pattison, M Perls, R Potts, I Simpson, P Walker, J Whitehead,

I Whitworth, K Wilkinson

These names featured in the report but without surnames. John, Phil, Tish, Steve, Mike, Mark, Ian, all the Andrews, Chris, Paul, Joanna, Kate, Skipper Clare, Rachel, all the Andrews, Chris, Mark, Chuck, Paul and o/c Mammals Project Mike.

 

 

 

Photo supplied by Steven Hobbs.

RAASAY EXPEDITION, THE SKYE BIVVY

This bivvy came about in an unusual way. Due to the complete failure of the canoe bivvy, a weather casualty, an alternative was devised.  Steve Paynter decided instead to go to Skye and explore a possible site for a senior expedition.  The trip represented the ideal solution. The long haul involved, however, proved to be a disincentive to most and so, in the end, there were only four members, plus Steve, bound for Camasunary.

In order to set up camp in good time we needed to catch the early ferry; so we availed ourselves of the services of A L Mike Osbourne, who had his own car. Even so, we still had to be away from camp by 0800. The ferry left at 0900 and we arrived on Skye without a hitch.

The next stage was the most uneventful of the whole trip. Before reaching the cross-section where we were to branch off and walk on a country path, we had a four mile section of road to cover, which we did in seventy-five minutes. After consulting the map, we started out on the eight mile track, next stop Camasunary.

Having made excellent progress so far, we could relax and soak up the glorious hills from the valley. Following a late lunch, with picturesque views, we continued along the track until we reached our destination.

As everyone had their priorities right, we decided to eat immediately after the tents had been put up.  It was a rather unusual concoction, but we wolfed it down nevertheless. Later, Phil, Richard and I went off to explore the excellent campsite and found no fault, except that it is rather exposed to the elements. An hour later, we decided to call it a day and went to join Mark and Steve, who were doing a spot of bird-watching. As we turned in for the night we hoped that the following day's weather would be as good as that on Day One....

Hmmm.... not quite! There had been a howling gale blowing during the night and the two tents were lashed about and saturated with rain. It was impossible to cook breakfast, so we had to retreat to a mountain bothy after striking camp. We hid in the bothy for about an hour, but then had to leave to set out for Raasay.

We found the path and struck out for home. It had been raining so much that the trip to the road can only be described as a wade. The path was a stream, and the trickles of the day before were raging rivers. Crossing them was extremely hazardous to say the least. The wallet in my back pocket containing all my worldly wealth - a sole fiver - was soggy by the tine we got back to camp. On several occasions on the way Butty was seen to be swimming across the rivers

We arrived back at camp soggy, but happy.  Life-saver Steve had had some chocolate which quickly did a vanishing act, after which things seemed less bad.  The trip along the road whizzed by. and we soon found ourselves on the ferry. Mike was there for us at the other side, and in no time the camp loomed up in front of us.  A boiling cup of soup revived our senses and then there was time to reflect on a wet, enjoyable, but unforgettable bivvy which turned out to be not unlike the canoe bivvy that it was intended to replace.

An anonymous comment, while wading through deep water: "It's a good thing I dubbined my boots before we set off, otherwise my feet would get wet!"

Members:  Steve Paynter, Richard Butterworth, Phil Genge, Mark Harris, Ian Whitworth.

Ian Whitworth

 

Another photo of Raasay '82 from Steve Hobbs.

FISHING BIVVY

Many people came to Raasay prepared to reap some harvest from the sea, but went home without the extra protein they had hoped for.  We had a multitude of tackle, fly rods, match rods, canal rods, beach casters and tried every known method, fishing from the rocks around Brochel.  All to no avail, except for a single rock gubby, caught by hand at low tide.

So in desperation a 17 man fishing bivvy to the western seaboard set off.  I think the popularity of this bivvy was more due to the length of the route (1 miles - 45 minutes walking) than the keenness to fish. On reflection we had the people to walk line abreast across one of the shallow lochs and drive the fish into the shallows where we could have speared them with tentpoles, but perhaps this would have been considered unsporting.  The trout in the lochs are reported to reach l lbs.  Nobody was able to prove it.

The bivvy proved interesting as a trial of lightweight tents.  We took all the available models, including two belonging to members (a total of seven tents of five different designs) and succeeded in getting them all soaked. The campsite chosen was  flat, and had delightful views up and down the coast.  However, it was on an exposed headland, was boggy and fresh water was a long way off.

We had come to fish, and most people did their best for a couple of hours on the falling tide, until it became clear that the west coast was much like the east. We didn't catch anything except the solitary gubby, this time by line. Chuck caught a crab using Stuart's fingers as bait whilst poking around the rocks for sea urchins at low tide.

Supper was prepared on driftwood fires on the beach below camp.  As evening entertainment we were given a demonstration of fishing by an islander, out in the middle of the bay, hand lining fish into his boat until it appeared so full it could barely float.

Most lessons learnt were to do with camping rather than fishing.  For instance, the factors to be considered when choosing a campsite, how to pitch a tent so that the wind blows hard on to the front door, and how to divide up the equipment so that your mates get the wettest and heaviest section of the tent, and you only get the poles, or better still, just the pegs, to carry back to base camp.

John, Phil, Tish, Steve, Mike, Mark, Ian, all the Andrews, Chris, Paul, Joanna, Kate, Skippers Clare and Mike O, and A N Other to make up the numbers