My Scouting Hurrah

Some things are so incredible that putting them into writing feels like an impossible task. I’ve written this piece about seven times now and each time I read it over, I feel I haven’t given it the justice it deserves. So this time, I give it to you candidly.

I had almost talked myself out of going.

Scouting and I… we’d been drifting apart. The spark that once lit every one of my campfires and early morning hikes was now flickering dim. The thought of leaving the ship and flying to Portugal for the world’s largest Scouting event for youth over eighteen felt more like an obligation than an adventure. I told myself it was “a once in a lifetime opportunity” but deep down, I wondered if the money, the time, and the effort would be worth it. Europe was calling my name and I was struggling to see the why to my presence at this event.

It didn’t take long to find my answer though.

It came in the form of strangers who felt like old friends. In the cool shock of plunging into a swimming hole hidden deep in a national park, water so clear you could see the stones three meters down. In the thumping bass of a small-town festival where I danced until sweat soaked through my shirt, not caring that I didn’t know the steps (and believe me, I didn’t know the steps). It came in the warmth of Lebanese friends who partied with the pride of sharing a piece of home, in the easy familiarity of Canadian faces, and in the steady presence of an Australian who made me feel comfortable no matter how chaotic the surroundings became.

This trip was nothing like I had pictured and I couldn’t have been more grateful for that.

It wasn’t all smooth sailing. Some people’s food restrictions were overlooked, mealtimes shifted from “late” to “whenever” (Kacie this one’s for you), and the schedule seemed to run on “Portuguese time,” where urgency simply didn’t exist despite needing to at times. But somehow, that lack of structure turned into a kind of freedom for path 64. We adapted. We carried extra snacks for friends who couldn’t eat what was served. We learned to laugh at the delays. And when someone struggled; with the heat, the homesickness, or just the sheer unpredictability of it all, we rallied. We lifted each other up. That, I realized, was Scouting at its best: not the badges, nor the neckers. Not even the uniforms; but the people who refuse to let each other fall behind. That was Scouting as I knew it.

Moving from our small, safe path group to the chaos of main camp felt like stepping off a quiet forest trail into the middle of a city square. Our path group was familiar. We knew the faces, the inside jokes (#participantconcerns), the unspoken rhythm of our days. Main camp? That was unknown territory. But when we walked through the main gates, the scale of it was overwhelming in the best possible way. Flags from every corner of the globe flapped in the breeze. The calls of excited voices from around the globe drifted through the air. You could hear a snippet of song in one language followed by laughter in another. Thousands of ways to be a Scout all of which were being celebrated.

It struck me how rare this was. In so many parts of the world, particularly in these times, differences divide us. Here, they were a reason to gather.

When I think back now, pride is the first thing I feel. Pride in being part of a movement that connects people across borders. Pride in knowing I can land in a place where I know no one and still find community. Pride in remembering that the values I’ve always cherished; curiosity, kindness, and service; aren’t mine alone but are shared by thousands.

World Scout Moot: OBRIGADA. For reigniting my love for grassroots Scouting. For the conversations that stretched long into the night. For the moments that will replay in my mind for years. For proving that connection is worth crossing oceans for.

The final chapter of my Europe trip is closing as I share this. Maybe, in a few days, I’ll be ready to tell that story too.

With love,

E

path 64 🫶