Plans had been underway for several months, so it was with much enthusiasm the boys of the lodge, packed their bags for a visitation to Lodge Kildalton, No 552, Port Ellen, Islay, on Saturday 25th February, 06 and no one was more relieved to see all on board the departing ferry than the RWM, Neil John MacLean. He knew he would need all his parental skills to keep the boys out of mischief and make sure they all got home safe and sound to their families the next day.

Anyway, as always, it was flat calm heading down the loch and a few of the nervier ones, not yet being sea sick, decided to risk a beer or, two to calm the nerves - a wise decision in light of what lay ahead. A few of the old sea dogs kept the entertainment going with tales of yore and kept the skipper right with his navigation across the sound to Islay. After an anxious head count, Neil John unleashed the boys down the gang plank with orders not to dare let old Mr MacArthur drive the bus away before all were on board. A few old dears were barged out the way in the sprint to the bus, as Davie Sinclair made sure these orders were followed to a "T." The RWM claimed his 2 seats at the front, passing the driver a few helpful tips on driving on tight roads (while tight) and the young bucks hogged the back seat as usual.

Before you could say "where 're we?" we were there. Our palace for the night was the excellent White Hart Hotel and the driver gave the RWM a friendly wave with his middle finger as he deposited his human cargo at 60 mph, at the door, nearly. Well, the boys started pairing off quicker than 20 virgins at a brothel and as luck would have it, everyone was as happy with their roommate as if they were indeed there. No time was wasted throwing, sorry unpacking, one's suitcase and 30 seconds later the more intrepid explorers made their way into the wild yonder that is Port Ellen.

                    
  Quite how John MacKinnon and Donald Mochrie made it to the Ardview, before Tommy and Jimmy will remain one of the Seven Wonders of the World, however they were in no mood to stop to try to work that one out and soon were relaxing from the stressful drive. As luck would have it however, more anxiety was soon to be thrust upon them as the gas TV flickered to light with pictures from Murrayfield. Ever mindful of the RWM's command to remember the indissoluble attachment to the land of one's birth, the lads quickly nipped back to the hotel, changed into their suits for the meeting and went back to the pub. A hearty throng thereafter pushed Scotland towards victory over the auld enemy. In fact some were pushing so hard they got very red about the gills and almost forgot about the impending meeting.

The boys however, soon came back down to ground with images of an angry Neil John to jolt them back to reality and were soon in the midst of the gathering throng at Lodge Kildalton, where another few stiff ones were soon relaxing the nerves once again. A massive deputation, some more so than others, were soon admitted into the lodge and given a splendid welcome by the RWM, brethren of Lodge Kildalton and many other visitors from near and far. By this time there were concerns the roof may be leaking, but it turned out to be mild perspiration from the RWM, when handed the gavel to confer the Mark Degree for the evening. Once in their stations the team duly performed with all aplomb and Kildalton had 4 new MMM's to welcome into their midst. Very generous words of congratulation, presentations and thanks were exchanged, with sincere plans to exchange the visit in the not too distant future, with our own RWM paying sincere tribute to the 16 others who had made the trip with him.

Thereafter, everyone retired to the lovely social club they have there and much hospitality was consumed by the large crowd. The brethren of 754 would like to openly express their gratitude for the warm welcome and fine hospitality received especially all the tasty bites, music, songs and stories. All too soon the lights began to dim and parting handshakes were being made as the night drew to a close. Back to the hotel sallied the crew, ready for bed, but yet another mystery lay ahead. Whose idea was it to arrange a disco in the White Heart that night? Well, soon the dead came back to life, or so Jimmy thought and once again, the boys rose to the challenge. The Polish bar staff were worked off their feet and looked on nervously fearing Lachie and Neil John were going to start their John Travolta routine.

Jimmy soon conked out again, after baulking (?boaking) at a triple G&T and made his way back to base camp with Tommy Angus. No one yet knows what really happened, but it is alleged that someone sneakily removed the ladders from Jimmy's bunk bed sometime thereafter during the night. As luck would have it Jimmy's bladder reached full about 5.30 a.m. and without a second's thought he responded to mother natures tingle for a tinkle, though how his nervous system was able to function at all defies belief. Anyway, out of bed (yes, the top one) he jumped, only to find out the floor was further away than he realised. The parachute roll was forgotten about as he landed with a hell of a clatter, much to Tommy's annoyance - oops - concern.

Anyway, up he got and bounded off to the loo as if nothing had happened and before long he was back in bed, dead to the world. Well, as all beer drinkers know, once you start going to the loo, you can't stop and an hour, or so later Jimmy stirred to life once again. It is rumoured that he once thought he was a pilot and this might be why he tried to fly once again, but all too soon the floor came up to meet him once more. "Jesus!" was the call from Tommy, but even he couldn't have saved Jimmy. Miraculously, he again bounced up to his feet and made off to the cludgie, though whether he made it, nobody knows.

Soon the call of the cockerel was dragging all from their beds and this time Jimmy chose to use the ladder. After a gargle with some whisky and stout, the lads were ready for brekkie and what a welcome feast it was too. The crack was great as everyone had their tales to tell from the night before, but no one would believe Tommy's stories of bodies flying through the air, insisting he must have had a nightmare as Jimmy was uninjured. Alas, the failed pilot had to confess and laid the blame at the door of the hotel, insisting they should have left the "landing light" on (get it?) and supplied a parachute.

Soon Lachie Wood solved the problem of the missing barman and had the profits running into thousands by opening time. We are told he will be paid next time he's over. The boys from Kildalton, only too keen to cure any hangovers soon opened their social club once more and all headaches soon disappeared. Before long the bus was calling to take the lads back to Port Askaig, much to Jimmy Purdie's relief, fearing another wild ear bashing from Margaret, if he should dare miss the ferry. As luck would have it, this time the bus was driven by a fine, young Islay lass, who kept the boys entertained with good humour all the way back to the Port Askaig Hotel, which luckily was open, as the boys had an hour spare to pass.

As with the Saturday, it was a flat calm and crystal clear day, only serving to remind everyone of the beauty of our islands and round off the trip perfectly. Back on dry land, the good shepherd's face was losing its red appearance, as Neil John began to breathe more easily knowing the flock would be back safely at home that night. Thanks Lodge Kildalton and also, Islay, for a trip not to be forgotten.