PRELIMINARY INSTRUCTION 1. Our beloved hero is about to undertake a momentous new chapter in the Chronicle of his life. By stepping into the world of the married, he follows in the steps of some of you, yet treads a new path for others. Before the new era may begin, however, Joseph Douglas Bruce must embark upon one final adventure before the current chapter may end, and that adventure is The Journey. 2. He cannot make The Journey alone, and it is up to us all, his fellow Journey-men, to travel the road alongside the hero of this tale, so we may guide him along the path. Those who have completed their own Journey may offer assistance and advice, and those who have not will no doubt attempt to do likewise, but we, my fellow Journey-men, must all be with him.
Timings		Nine good men: Woolfington of Tonsley, Our hero, Angus and Paul Bruce - the Chuckle Brothers, John B - Lord of the Skies, Floodmeister, Dr Pedro Slider, The Rocking Horse Kid and Taily.

3. The Journey will begin on the eighth day of the month of August, which is known in these lands as Friday. I have heard tell that many of you would normally be required to do your jobs of work upon such a day, but I would urge you, in a forceful manner, to forgo your labours on that day, and join us on our great adventure. The Journey will conclude on the tenth day of the same month of August, and we Journey-men will be weary, yet content, that we have aided our brave hero upon his path.

4. Each of you, my fellow Journey-men, are encouraged to join our merry band at the very start of our quest, but if that is not possible, I will be only too happy to see you at some point along our route. I have investigated the transportation for our adventure, and we must assemble at London Gatwick airport in time to catch the EZY 761 which departs at 1130hrs on the eighth of August and will take us to the fair city of Inverness. Our return to this starting point upon conclusion of The Journey will be aboard the EZY 762, which will arrive at London Gatwick at 1500hrs on the tenth of August. There are also flights with BA through Logan Air, but these are more expensive.

5. At this time, there is considerable availability for this part of The Journey, and I would ask you to confirm your intentions to me by 1700hrs on Friday 16 May. I will then complete a group booking of seats, and you can all pay me in due course. After this time, should you wish to join the Journey, you must make your own travel arrangements encourage you all to procure return tickets for the flights detailed above as soon as possible. Of course, you can always let the train take the strain…

Equipment

6. The Journey is a simple affair and not arduous, although you will be in the great outdoors for the duration. All that is required is some warm, comfortable clothing of the fleecy, outdoors ilk rather than jeans or nightclubbing kit. A sleeping bag is essential, as is a change of clothes as it is fairly inevitable that some or all of us will get wet (full immersion) at some point. Sun screen and mosquito repellent are advisable, and comfortable training shoes / light walking boots are the order of the day.

Summary

10. If you have been a participant in stag nights or weekends which have involved the groom wearing a bondage style, leather thong and getting his arse slapped by his friends for the night / weekend, while everyone drinks their own bodyweight in strong continental lager, then The Journey is very different.

11. Our intrepid Journey-men began to assemble on the seventh night of August, at the renowned Ship Inn, at the confluence of the River Wandle with the mighty Thames. Also present were a number of stout fellows, (and much more attractive ladies), who were unable to undertake The Journey, but insisted on joining our hero for some refreshment before the off. Commiserations must be offered to the tiny-membered owner of a rather smart convertible BMW, which was the subject of a disagreement with a Ford Ka. The blame for this tragedy can only rest with the aforementioned owner, who not only purchased such an automobile to make up for his lack of equipment, but "parked" it diagonally across the road in an attempt to further highlight his requirement for greater blessings in the trouser department. Such was the level of amusement following this incident, The Journey-men decided to conceive a celebratory cycle obstacle course, featuring the conservatory of the Ship Inn. Many thanks must go to the bar staff, and Dr Pedro Slider, the keeper of the cycle.

12. And so The Journey began. Some elected to drive to Gatwick Airport, and others decided to let the train take the strain. The latter group were laughing kit bags, when it was discovered that the M25 was closed for the day. After some hair-raising driving by Angus Bruce, and some equally hair-raising navigation from our hero, Jovis, everyone made it safely to the departure gate. Nine good men and true took to the skies. Our hero was joined by The Rocking Horse Kid, Woolfington of Tonsley, Floodmeister, Angus and Paul Bruce - the Chuckle Brothers, Dr Pedro Slider, John B - Lord of the Skies, and Taily.

13. Upon arrival at the fair highland city of Inverness, we were greeted by Don/Gordon (still not sure - they talk real strange in them parts), and sped off like lightning in his trusty minibus. Taily was happy with proceedings at this stage; everyone had made the flight, no-one had been sick yet, and we were good for time. Such optimism couldn't last. As we approached the town of Cromdale (see map below), Don/Gordon asked where we would like to be dropped off. Taily replied that we should be deposited at the campsite, by the river, as Don/Gordon's boss had been instructed. Don/Gordon responded by saying that he had been given no instruction, and incidentally, that there wasn't a campsite by a river in Cromdale. After some worrying moments, our guide Dave phoned Taily to ask where we were, as we needed to get going and make best use of the available daylight. Taily explained, and sought clarification of the rendezvous, to which he was told we needed to be at the Cromdale campsite, by the river…

14. Don/Gordon was despatched with written instructions for the pick-up point on Sunday, as the Journey-men prepared themselves by meeting Jan, Dave and Graeme, having a quick chat about the vagaries of paddling open canoes along the river, and tucking into a splendid picnic prepared by Jan. Following lunch, Jan set off with the support vehicle to prepare our camp, and our flotilla of 7 open canoes took to the magnificent River Spey, under a clear blue sky. The 9 Journeymen occupied 5 canoes, with Taily taking the first turn as the Lonesome Boatman, whilst Dave and Bob carried out shepherding duties at the head and tail of the column. The afternoon was splendid, and surprisingly there was little tomfoolery between boat crews. This was probably due to being told it was about 15km to the campsite. Along the way we watched Ospreys fishing, passed lavish estates and forested mountains.

15. The Journey-men also began to pick up some useful paddling techniques in order to use the boats and river correctly. Ferry-gliding enables the canoe to traverse from River Right to River Left (or vice versa) with relative ease, and much less effort than had been expended during our novice manoeuvres. Such lessons were invaluable, and most grasped them readily, however one crew in particular seemed to be incapable of remaining in the main channel and ended up in what can only be described as cul de sacs at every opportunity. This resulted in much portage for the hapless crew - manhandling their boat over the shallows and dry banks to return to the main channel.

16. After a long paddle, we eventually arrived at Camp 1. A very picturesque bank-side location surrounded by forest, with a small road bridge was to be our home for the night. True to our expectations, Jan was already preparing supper, and had set up our tents. We quickly secured the boats, and unloaded a large assortment of firewood, which had been collected during the course of the afternoon. It was then time for a couple of well-deserved beers as we settled in for the night. Some went swimming, some played football, but soon the beer was flowing, and it wasn't long after supper that Woolfington of Tonsley produced a pack of cards. The Ring of Fire commenced, as we all sat in a ring, around the fire, wonderful. Dave and Graeme were intrigued by the seemingly over-elaborate rules, but it didn't take long for them to pick up the gist of the game. As the darkness drew in, beer consumption increased, and the Chuckle Brothers began chuckling. It was clear that they had plans to ensure our hero didn't miss out on some of the more traditional Stag Night activities. Without breaching the golden rule of "What goes on tour, stays on tour," I think it is worth mentioning that a whole can of squirty cream was rapidly dispatched, it is amazing how flammable toilet paper can be when it is held in the correct manner, and our hero was forced to share a tent with the hairiest arse known to man.

17. An early start for all was ensured by a glorious morning. Many heavy heads were lightened by another swim in the river, while Dave and Graeme got on with breakfast. Unlike most drunken evenings involving male bonding when breakfast consists of a warm can of beer and/or a cigarette, there was a remarkable amount of bacon, which all had to be eaten. When all were satisfied a surplus still remained, and so it was left to our hero to consume the lot, and waste not, want not. We were soon back on the river, and looking forward to another day of paddling. We had been promised a slightly shorter distance, but this was going to be the "Day of the Rapids." Crews were swapped, and Woolfington of Tonsley took his turn as the Lonesome Boatman. Before long tomfoolery broke out, instigated by the Chuckle Brothers, and canoe sinking raids were common. Unfortunately for Dave, one crew decided he was being far too grown up, despite the fact that he was our guide and owned the paddling company, and decided to sink him. They achieved their mission, but during the course of the raid, Dave lost his Ray-Ban sunglasses, and was rather miffed for quite some time.

18. The jovial mood took a more serious turn as we approached the major rapids. We knew they were serious rapids as they had been given names, and the first set was the "Washing Machine." Not a particularly dread-inducing name, but they looked pretty scary as we approached. After a quick heave to at River Right, we took turns to ferry-glide into the main current before letting ourselves be taken over the edge. Everyone made it down safely, with varying degrees of soaking, and it was then time to leave the boats to ride the washing machine once more. As we walked back up to the head of the rapid, Dave warned us that the rocks in this part of the world were the slippiest known to man - quite a claim, which should have been more carefully heeded by some. Many were keen to try the experience of riding the rapids without canoes a number of times, but not poor Floodmeister, who banged his backside on what was probably the slippiest of the slippiest rocks known to man, and couldn't feel his leg for the rest of The Journey. Needless to say, everyone was extremely sympathetic, showing much concern for his discomfort.

19. After more paddling through ever more spectacular scenery, more stunning estates, and extremely miserable fishermen, we stopped for lunch. The lunch stop was at the distillery of Knockando, and whilst Jan prepared another sumptuous picnic, we set off to explore the distillery, looking forward to sampling some of the produce. Strangely though, despite finding the distillery open, with machinery whirring, stills bubbling, and radios playing, there was not a soul in sight. We had clearly found the Mary Celeste of distilleries, and so had a good poke around before returning to the river for lunch.

20. The rest of the afternoon was spent trying to avoid fishermen, plenty of tomfoolery and getting stuck in cul de sacs, in no particular order. The Journey was nearing completion, and the tranquil setting of remote countryside was increasingly punctuated by signs of habitation. At Charlestown of Aberlour we made landfall to replenish our supplies of fizzy beer-ade and sweets, then it was full speed ahead to Craigellachie and the camp for our second night.

21. Once again, Jan had beaten us to the campsite, but as this was our last night she was busy preparing a special supper. This meant that the intrepid adventurers had to erect their own tents. It was soon apparent that some Journey-men had not been camping for a considerable time, and the associated admin vortex was a sight to behold. The camp was established rapidly nonetheless, and soon the sound of cans being opened broke the riverside calm. Following another sumptuous meal, the Journey-men, along with Jan, Dave and Graeme, adjourned to a little pub on the banks of the Fiddich river, home of the eponymous whisky. The pub itself can only be described as unique, and was manned by the oldest bar-staff in the world. Just like the slippy stones, the Spey Valley was affording us an insight into some of our planet's extremes.

22. As night drew in, the Journey-men decided to make the most of the proximity of Craigellachie, a veritable metropolis in comparison to the surrounding area at Camp 1. A pub crawl ensued, and fortunately Woolfington of Tonsley's best efforts to upset the local crowd proved to be ineffective. Meanwhile our hero was discovering that it is not possible to freeze your freezer, nor indeed thumb your thumber, and was obviously learning the hard way.

23. That night saw an extensive rainstorm pass over the camp, or was it all really a dream! Suffice to say, it was raining in the morning, and so we hastily struck camp, and cheered our spirits with a spot of cricket practice using small crab apples as balls. These proved to be a little tricky for slip catching drills, and were just as painful as a cricket ball when a catch was misjudged. Eventually Don/Gordon made it to the rendezvous, and the Journey-men set off for the return flight back to the Smoke. Despite some concern from Taily regarding Don/Gordon's ability to make Inverness airport in time, the transfer was surprisingly smooth.

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