Russian National Jamboree, 2004

Barry Dale & Party Attend Jamboree Vetluga

We are standing in the middle of St. Petersburg station some time in the late evening of a day in late July. We, being ten, and only ten, Scouts from England. There were, however, another 22 Russian Scouts, all part of our party, plus an extra 40 from around the town. So we ten were actually 72, all dressed in our bright red t-shirts, and all bound for a Camp some 36 hours journey away on the banks of the River Volga. Some of us hardened English travellers had done this sort of thing before. Four years ago to Saratov, two years ago to Nizhny Novgorod, but the rest, no; all this was new and different. Why did they want to see our passports, why did we not have tickets, only a sheet of paper with names, mmm, very strange? The girl in charge of our carriage (who looked about seventeen) had not met this strange, foreign  type of person before (nor would she ever again), so….. she looked round, and waived us onto the train. Some time later we had our passports collected, put on a table, and then given back to us. We leaders were in with two Russian strangers, she looked us up and down, he looked her up and down. She chatted to our lads, he attempted to chat to her. Doesn’t time go quickly when you’re having fun?

So we arrived in Samara. “Thank goodness for that” said one, “Where’s the camp?” Only a short distance by train, 134km, on the local line, say 2 ½ hrs ...and then we were there, or rather we were at the station for the camp on top of the river valley bank. Below, stretching for miles the mighty Volga running in and out of the trees. All that was needed was to go down the steps, merry little campers, bags on our backs, a little luggage in our hands, totally  knackered from the travelling. There were 306 steps, followed by 50 or 60 foot of near vertical soil path. But hey, we’re happy campers on holiday, D.Y.B., D.Y.B., D.Y.B.! I had travelled some 4 or 5,000 miles to reach this point and as we crossed the little bridge into the camp sight  bent, eyes dripping sweat, legs throbbing, heart pounding, what greeted me? A gang  of laughing Russian Scouts and leaders all shouting “Barry, Barry, you came”. They all tried to kiss me at once, and give me a hug and I felt great. These were the Scouts from Omsk, with Kostia and Lena their leaders. I had met them last May in Omsk on a Leaders’ study visit. What a small world.  They went off to swim, we to our allotted part of the camp, our Scouts still looking in disbelief  at this encounter. Our sub-camp leader met us at the entrance to the sub-camp, Igor from near Moscow and yes we knew each other, again from a previous visit.   Over the first few days I managed to bump into Sirgay Sirotkin, The Russian Chief Scout.( Met him in Moscow) , then there was Victor from north of Omsk, and Victor from Kazakstan with Ainur  his international Commissioner. Then of course there was Frank the German. Now I hadn’t met him before, but he seemed to know all about me.

Andrew (Russian) and Elena led a band of interpreters who looked after us like their lost children all our stay. Every day someone turned up to translate for the scouts as they did the activities according to the programme. We busied ourselves talking to everyone we came across. We all had a day in the town of Samara, returning by River Cruiser to camp. We managed to find an off sight banya to introduce the Scouts to Hell, as though it wasn’t hot enough. We resisted gathering the wild cannabis covering the valley sides although some of the Russian lads did, but the lived to regret it once Galena their leader found out. I shudder to think what she said to them but she could drop you at twenty paces with a look before she said a word. The weather was hot, as you might expect, but it did help being in the woods. This however, did not help the aerial  attack by mosquitoes who seem to love the still waters of the lakes and the shade of the trees and good foreign flesh. No wonder the frogs were gigantic but fortunately we did not see the poisonous snakes. Having a bath in a warm, sandy beached lake was good, once, twice or even three times a day, although the “Black Diamond” toilet block left much to be wished for. It was a good week, the food, different of course, was very enjoyable cooked over the open fire in only one “billy”. The host Scouts were good with our Scouts, and judging by the finds in the morning, were even better with the older lads on camp. Maybe the down side was the fact that we could not find the bar. People said that it was somewhere, but we never managed to find it.

So  in the middle of a Monday afternoon, we climber the slope, and the steps (306), did the 2 ½ hrs back to Samara and after much hanging about covered the 36hrs back to St. Petersburg. I noted with some interest that Glynn, one of our seasoned Leaders managed to sleep the whole way back with very short gaps to eat, how can anyone sleep for 36hrs, and then say he is tired. Two more days in Home Hospitality and we returned to the bosom of our families.

I hope we all remember the experience for many years to come if not the rest of our lives. There was warmth and happiness and fond memories; and hopefully a maturing of attitudes  for all of us, young, old, UK and Russian. A great trip.      

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See also the ARNSO jamboree webpage and the jamborees webpages

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