The West Highland Way 1987

The seeds of Lodge St. Olaf’s adventurous fundraising traditions were planted in the mid-1980s, born from high ambitions, youthful optimism, and an inaugural trek along the formidable West Highland Way. Four brethren stepped forward to shoulder the challenge: Doug Sheal, Gordon Mackay, Bill Murray, and Doogi Rankine. While the first three names remain familiar fixtures in the Lodge four decades later, Bro. Doogi Rankine brought a unique camaraderie to the undertaking.

Doogi and Gordon were boyhood friends from Grangemouth who considered each other family. When work took Gordon north to Peterhead in 1981, he joined Lodge St. Olaf No. 154, inspiring Doogi—who had relocated south to Chester—to follow in his footsteps. Undaunted by geography, Doogi secured special dispensation and embarked on grueling 800-mile round trips every fortnight across three consecutive meetings to be initiated, passed, and raised alongside his closest friend. Little did either realize those symbolic fraternal steps would soon translate into ninety-six grueling miles through the rugged Scottish Highlands.

What the quartet possessed in enthusiasm, they sorely lacked in long-distance trekking experience. Their initial strategy was uncompromising: a punishing four-day itinerary beginning with an over-ambitious 28-mile sprint from Milngavie to Rowardennan. Reality struck swiftly on the trail. Just fourteen miles in, near Drymen, Doogi fell victim to catastrophic sock selection. Debilitating blisters forced an early retirement, reducing their sponsored ranks to three. By dusk, sheer physical exhaustion had pushed Doug and Gordon to their absolute limits, turning the simple act of rising the next morning into a painful, shuffling ordeal.

Day two lasted a mere eight miles along the rocky shores of Loch Lomond before the support vehicle was summoned to rescue the battered pair. Yet as the car pulled up, a sudden surge of determination took hold of Gordon. Refusing to surrender, he declined the lift back home and instead, they set off down the road to intercept Bill, who was pressing on alone just a few miles ahead.

It was a stroke of remarkable timing. Further along the trail, Bill had suffered a bizarre and painful mishap at a high wooden stile: slipping between the rungs, he found himself dangling upside down, completely pinned by the deadweight of his heavy rucksack. Bruised, shaken, and questioning the sanity of continuing solo, Bill was immensely relieved when Gordon appeared on the horizon. Over restorative bowls of hot soup and well-earned pints at the Bridge of Orchy Hotel, spirits and morale were swiftly restored.

The reunited pair tackled the exposed expanse of Rannoch Moor and the notorious Devil’s Staircase with renewed grit. Their pride was frequently humbled along the way by two sprightly physical education students who breezed past them in lightweight trainers, carrying their meager provisions in plastic carrier bags more suited to Glasgow’s Barras market than the Scottish wilderness.

Against the odds, the expedition marched into Fort William on schedule. The trek became an instant legend in Lodge lore, raising over £700—a tremendous sum for the era—and establishing the gold standard of resilience, humor, and brotherhood that defines every Lodge St. Olaf fundraising venture to this day.