It's not really a club, most of us are no longer lads (that is to say we are too old, rather than not the right sex any more) and we are only bordering on the raggy.
But Dave Picken, who is only a rare visitor, thought the name up, and it stuck.
It all started when some middle-aged gents decided to take the country air occasionally, and in order not to waste the day out, to take some beer as well. Scratchings and pies came later.
And it all just mushroomed from there.
All of a sudden, some members of the younger generation joined in, and were suitably disgusted by the juvenile behaviour and recreational activities enjoyed by their older colleagues. Then, shock horror, some ladies attached themselves to the days out (we didn't dare say no), and that's when people started to drink Becks and similar moth piss. They've been known to have wine!!!
It's all being going downhill ever since. Next thing you know there'll be a website.
But when you can see views like the one on the right (Tarn Hows in the Lake District, on an unusually quiet day) who cares? In fact, if there's a pub selling good beeyor on the route, who cares again?
The only thing we really worry about is: Should there  be an apostrophe somewhere in "Raggylads Walking Club"?
Oh, and what happened to white dog poo?
Use the menu on the left of the home page to find walks, and take a look at the features (More than a walk, What's it all about, Send us your walks and Walk in safety) if you want to lose the will to live.
And remember, gan canny.