Why would you want to put yourself through the misery?

Jul 17 2008 Agenda

There’s the mud, blisters, climbing barren hillsides and sleeping in leaky tents to look forward to. So why would anyone want to put themselves through the Duke of Edinburgh’s Award scheme? Becky Pile thinks she’s found the answer.

It’s an undeniable fact that when you’re halfway up the tallest mountain in Wales and England and it’s pouring with rain, feels about minus five degrees Celsius and with a rucksack (which you’re convinced some joker has stashed heavy rocks in) strapped to your back, you do question why exactly you are there.

I don’t mean in a philosophical sense, but rather why exactly anyone would volunteer to be put through this. This was my latest Duke of Edinburgh expedition experience and despite the reservations I might have harboured I’ve absolutely every intention of completing my gold award and, yes, putting myself through that hell again.

Strangely enough, it wasn’t until very recently that I even questioned the logic behind DofE, or at least why I chose to do it. Asked why I had ‘the sniffles’ in the middle of summer, my reply (in a matter of fact way) was that I’d not only spent all of last week in the pouring rain climbing Snowdon (and various other mountains) during the day but also that I’d spent nearly every night in a leaky tent, hence “the sniffles”.

The reply to this brief explanation was a baffled look and an “Oh, right”, which made me realise I actually chose to put myself in that situation and so could expect to receive neither sympathy or understanding.

The sniffles are far removed from the worst case scenario outlined while climbing what can only be described as a near vertical mountainside of scree and our guide Matt explaining that if we fell and were “lucky” we would only sprain our wrists. We didn’t ask what would become of us if we were unlucky.

After following various scenic ‘footpaths’, better known as small rivers, and conquering many a mountain in Wales (all of which was thanks to said guide who many of us spent the rest of the expedition channelling our frustration and hatred towards), we had the delicious food to look forward to which, by the last day, consisted of squashed scotch pancakes, broken pieces of pitta bread and slightly under-cooked super noodles (believe me by dinner time you just want to fill the void).

It’s about this time the question crops up: what insane little thought went through your brain when you innocently signed up on one sunny afternoon a year ago? And was there any inkling of just how extreme and trying the Gold DofE would be?

So why do it? This for me was thrown into perspective when in a conversation with a complete stranger (while peeling off soaking ‘waterproofs’ in the communal loos at the campsite), I asked if she was on DofE too. The shockingly cheerful reply was: “No, I’m on a camping holiday with my family. What’s DofE?”.

The rest of the night was then spent pondering her apparent loss of sanity for choosing to camp in Wales followed by the realisation I’d chosen to do pretty much the same thing but with the added pain of walking.

So, again, why?

Many people’s immediate answer (if not out loud then at least in their secret thoughts) is that it looks damn good on the CV, especially when you get to gold level. True, but if this was the sole reason for my participation in DofE I’m sure I wouldn’t make it to the end.

Petite (5ft 3”), I need a better reason than that to carry a third of my body weight for four days. Other people do it for sheer enjoyment; I’m not one of them and won’t pretend otherwise. My reason is because DofE is challenging, it’s not easy and not everyone can do it. That’s what provides the determination to climb those hills and mountains, and attempt to keep up with the 6ft, long-legged lads who play rugby in their spare time.

The DofE Award scheme is not only character building but there’s an incredible sense of achievement while taking part.

Reaching the top of Snowdon and being the tallest person in England and Wales (be it only for 10 seconds until you can no longer stand the wind) is definitely a defining moment.

You could do it, you did do it and you could definitely do it again.

There are other less obvious character-building aspects of DofE which don’t hit you at the top of Snowdon. The responsibility for yourself is more than you’ve ever experienced before. There’s no asking dad for a tenner and popping down the shop for some more food, or even having a shower whenever you want.

There’s rationing, self-discipline and although on DofE it’s extremely unlikely to be a case of life and death there is the sense that all your wordly belongings are strapped to your back.

It’s when you haven’t showered for almost three days and have been traipsing through mud and God only knows what that you’re in desperate need of some hygienic relief because that can make you start to feel human again.

But at the end of the day is that really what matters? Do you have to be squeaky clean at the beginning of the day only to go and get filthy straight away? No you really don’t, and this is what you learn. No matter how miserable you think you are on DofE, be it for hygienic reasons or the amount of blisters you have, it all comes down to personal choice. You have the power to choose how to handle the situation and what you’re going to get out of it. As my friend who I’ve gone on many a DofE expedition always says, “at this point it’s either laugh or cry”.

Going through all the rigours involved instills an unfathomable sense of independence and a need to be decisive, starting from route planning prior to the expedition to the point at which you realise you’ve read the map incorrectly, led the whole group completely the wrong way and are now on the opposite side of the valley than you’re supposed to be.

It’s ironic that although this independence is one of the most useful skills you get out of the expedition, it’s the team work and sense of group achievement (as well as the growing ability to be patient with the more annoying members of your group and them with you) that actually makes the expedition entirely bearable. I even have fond memories of walking up and down various mountains with the whole group singing Jerusalem.

And after all that the expedition is only a small part of DofE, even if it is the most challenging. There are the community service, skills, and physical recreation sections to worry about as well. Although these areas are possibly the most frustrating, given that there is a set amount of months for each, they are also very rewarding.

The skills force you to explore more than just schoolwork and socialising. The physical recreation makes sure you get fit (especially for the expedition) and the community service allows you to give something back.

So far I’ve helped out at a retirement home, a nursery and most recently at the Blue Cross animal shelter, all of them different, all of them rewarding.

Along the way, I discovered a love for photography which I’ve carried on ever since I began DofE four years ago. And there’s the sense of comradeship and the possibility of making new friends while reinforcing relationships with existing ones.

So, through the misery of being wet, cold and lost again, the question, was it all worth it?

The answer tends to hit you when you’re back in the luxury of home and looking forward to a nice, warm, clean bed.

Of course.