Written by poet tragic, Bruce Greenhalgh, from his volunteering perspective.
What instruments we have agree
The day of the rogaine was a dark cold day. – W.H. Auden
Okay, Auden’s poem, written in memory of the poet W. B. Yeats, doesn’t say ‘the rogaine’ but I do think Auden does a particularly good job of describing cold with his ‘instruments’ device and the Three Pleasant Mounts rogaine was on a ‘dark cold day’. How cold? My car thermometer (my ‘instrument’) said 8 degrees as I left home. It was also drizzling, with the drizzle turning to genuine rain after only a few minutes. It was classic ‘Why didn’t I stay in bed?’ weather. That I was volunteering and not competing didn’t make the conditions any more appealing. Volunteering or competing I’d be in the not-so-great, ‘great outdoors’.
Fortunately, the rain stopped falling, even if the temperature kept dropping. By the time I’d reached the bare and just a little foggy paddock that was to become the Hash House and ‘Rogaine Central’ the temperature was 5 degrees. Bracing. There wasn’t too much time to worry about the cold though, as there were things to be done. As people and equipment arrived, the process of creating the facilities to run a rogaine began. By 10 o’clock the event was in full swing. By 12.00 the countdown to noon released competitors for, potentially, six hours of roaming the forest.
At this point in a rogaine volunteers have a lull in proceedings. It’s a time to relax, have something to eat, and to wait for the next stanza that will bring the event to its conclusion. Which reminds me of another line of poetry, John Milton this time.
‘They also serve who only stand and wait.’
It was a little too cool for just standing around and waiting so Keith Humphris and I did a little tour of nearby controls. It was an interesting exercise to go control hunting and not be competing – much less stress! During our walk we both made predictions about who the winners would be and we both got it wrong. We also decided, assuming that it would stay fine, that cold or not, conditions for rogaining were good, especially if you planned to do some running.
On our return it was back to work on the catering and preparations for the return of competitors. Then it was into the denouement of things as participants returned and refueled, results were compiled and announced and the packing up began. It ended up being the expected long day with a cold finish (4 degrees when I left), but a rewarding one. Being part of the minor miracle that is the setting up and running of a rogaine imbues you with positive vibes. And volunteering is another, different way to experience a rogaine. It’s an opportunity to observe the gamut of styles of participation from the hard-core competitors to those simply out for an enjoyable day in the countryside. It’s a chance to wonder about how much gear is carried in the SARA trailer and to worry about whether it will all fit back in. The SARA trailer does appear to have Tardis-like qualities. Does that make Peter Milnes, the equipment officer, a Time Lord? And for this rogaine I also vicariously experienced being temporarily locationally embarrassed (lost) as I listened to a phone call from a team in a bit of difficulty. Setter, Karen Wishart, answered the call and managed to work out where they were and to instruct them as to how to get back to the HH. Onya Karen.
Volunteering is, I might add, vital to rogaining. The equation is simple, no volunteers = no rogaines. So, if you can, why not think about a spot of volunteering? Your contribution can be big or small; it’s up to you. Perhaps the next rogaine?
I opened with some poetry and I can’t resist closing with a line from Shelley’s ‘Ode to the West Wind’.
‘If Winter comes, can Spring and the State Champs be far behind?’
Poems: W. H. Auden In memory of W.B. Yeats, John Milton On his blindness, Percy Bysshe Shelley Ode to the West Wind
