The “campers” in the three spots nearest you have their generators going in all but the wee-est hours of the morning to keep their RVs cool and the lights and TV on.
Collecting firewood means going down to the beach with empty 50-pound dog food bags for driftwood. Good times, those. We’d probably get in trouble for that today, but way back when, nobody batted an eye. We usually had the beach to ourselves anyway.
Taking pictures of the siblings when they came out of the outhouse. For some reason, we thought that was hilarious, back in the day.
Going into town for a treat, smelling of grime, sweat and the great outdoors. Mostly the great outdoors. I hope.
Swarms of mosquitoes and biting black flies, along with the distinctive and pervasive outhouse scent wafting through the air. Also: baths in the stream which was ice-cold even in August.
This explains why my definition of ‘roughing it’ these days is slow room service.
The wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee! of the air mattress pump at 2 am.
(I don’t do hard camping, either.)
The scent of campfire in your hair on the car ride home is vaguely annoying, but by the time you get there, you’re trying to figure out how to shower without washing it out.
Two weeks later, finding the sweatshirt that still smells like campfire and burying your face in it and huffing.
Oh preach it! We calculated that over the two weeks we’d spent $150+ on ice. Having less-than-efficient coolers, we’ve now decided to invest in a three-way fridge. Whilst they retail here for over $1000, it’ll pay for itself in no time in ice-cost let alone all the food that got spoiled by sitting in icy water for a few hours.
25: Two days after returning home from camping, you’re still blowing black stuff into your tissue from your nose.
26: You write a list of all the things that were less than satisfactory on your trip, and head to the camping superstore to buy more shit.
Oh, and while it’s not exactly a ‘sign’ that you’re camping, in Australia the old adage…“don’t camp underneath a gum tree” came almost tragically true on our last day.
As we were packing up our camp early in the morning, we heard an ominous crack about 50m away…and watched in horror as a thumping great bough crashed down onto another campsite, crushing a tent and doing some major damage to a SUV. Thankfully there was no-one in the tent at the time…just a few minutes earlier and the outcome would have been disastrous.
Gumtrees drop boughs without warning. A few days previously we’d had some storm-force winds for a couple of hours, and the tree was fine. On the morning we left there was not a breath of wind, and still the branch sheared off the trunk.
Next trip you will be writing a list of all the shit you have brought along that you didn’t really need because you are sick of packing it all, dealing with it all, unpacking it all, etc.
Some guy in an old MGB with NY plates drives up in the evening and parks in an empty space. Does not set up a tent. Later you see him ghosting around the perimeter of the campground, wearing night-vision goggles.
Taking a dump in the great outdoors with the wind ruffling your hair & carrying off the scent of ones’ unwashed body is one of the great pleasures of camping.
As is saying “Hi” & “Good morning” to all your fellow soldiers walking by while doing so.
Those are some of my fondest memories of much time spent in the field with the US Army.
US Army: Ruining camping since 1788. At least I didn’t have to cook or clean. Had to do a few other unpleasant things though.
I seriously question #5. For my group, when we camp beer is breakfast. It’s the unofficial Reveille.
This weekend we considered ourselves to be “roughing it” when we did room service rather than walking downstairs to Bouchon for breakfast.