Do you remember Salvation Army picnic days from Thurso?

Thurso’s Heritage by a Thirsa Loon

There was a time, years ago, when summers felt longer, the sun seemed to shine brighter, and the Salvation Army picnic was one of the most anticipated events.

Generously paid for by the Army funds. This was no ordinary day; it was an adventure.

The excitement of the picnic began well in advance, building up until, at last, the morning of the big day arrived. Children awoke, ready for the outing. Each year, the destination changed – Westfield, Crosskirk, Dunnet Sands, or Banniskirk – offering new landscapes to explore.

These destinations were new playgrounds for these children, who were used to the familiar sights at home.

Little hands clutched their cups and tickets tightly, instructed not to let them fall as parents and children congregated at the Salvation Army Hall. The tiredness of the early start gave way, replaced by excitement.

Awaiting them were the horse-drawn lorries, driven by local contractors who had ensured the paintwork was pristine and the polished harnesses were gleaming in the morning sun. Sturdy wooden benches were tied to the lorries with ropes, albeit without the comfort of cushions.

One could only imagine what modern health and safety inspectors might say about such an arrangement. Still, back then, it was all part of the adventure.

Familiar faces were present to oversee the proceedings. Anne Sinclair, Peggy Mackay, John Sinclair and Walter Leed stood ready, their reassuring presence a constant each year.

Ensuring all were accounted for, the lorries rolled forward with a cheery shout of “All aboard!” as the Salvation Army flag waved in the breeze and parents waved goodbye.

The journey ahead was filled with song, voices carrying over the sound of trundling wheels as the town disappeared into the distance.

Upon arrival, a campfire was swiftly built, and the large urns of tea began to boil. Children gathered eagerly as boxes were opened, revealing baggies filled with fancy cakes from the bakers. The fresh air seemed to sharpen appetites, making the treats disappear as quickly as they appeared.

Once everyone was fed, races were run, and ballgames broke out. In contrast, others meandered around the site, hoping to find treasures like a bonnie shell or an unusual-looking stone until another round of tea and cakes was served as the day wore on.

There was a rule that everyone pitched in to tidy up until the picnic site looked like it had never been disturbed. In those moments, they were eco-warriors long before the term was coined, upholding respect for their environment, even if they might not have realised it.

With everything packed and secured, it was time to climb back aboard the lorries. The journey home was again filled with song. Should rain threaten, the boys would try to crawl under the benches. Some younger children, fresh-air defeated, fought to keep their eyes open, lulled by the gentle rocking of the lorry.

At last, the Army Hall came into view, signalling the end of their adventure. Tired but happy, the children clambered down, their minds replaying the day’s highlights as they returned home with tales of their outings.

Another year would pass, and the hope that next summer’s picnic would come sooner made childhood summers in Thurso hunforgettable.

I’d be interested to hear if any readers have pictures or memories of the Salvation Army Picnics.

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