My husband, Jonathan, and I are about to embark for a week in the eastern Sierra. The first three nights involve camping with a group of fanatical hikers who think nothing of day after day of 13+ mile hikes with 3,000+ foot elevation gains. But despite our aging knees, it’s not the hiking that gives me pause. It’s the camping.
I loved backpacking in my youth, but I was never that keen on camping. With backpacking you know you’ve abandoned all comfort at the trailhead, so you quickly stop dreaming about high thread count sheets. With camping, though, it’s always in the back of your mind that you could just jump in the car and drive to a motel for a good night’s sleep. We had a lot of fun when our kids were younger camping with the Girl Scouts. But that’s because we stood around “watching the kids” while our friends did all the work. Basically, I’m like my friend Roberta, whose idea of acceptable camping is a hotel without room service.
But it seemed like a good idea at the time when Jonathan asked if I’d like to try camping again. Now that we’re going, we’re getting our gear ready. Trouble has set in even before we’ve gotten to where the oxygen is thin.
Like in our living room, as we try to remember how to set up our tent. As the scent of mildew permeates the house and we nearly knock over the lamp with the fully extended aluminum poles, we argue about whether or not we’ll need the fly.
“It might be cold,” I point out, as Jonathan frowns.
Then it’s time to see if the air mattress has a slow leak. At least we are persuaded it doesn’t have a fast leak, so we are happy. Until I propose getting a sheet to cover it.
“We don’t need a sheet,” Jonathan says. “I am not bringing a bunch of blankets and sheets. You’ll be in a sleeping bag.”
Did I mention how much I HATE being confined in a sleeping bag, and like to spread one out under me, one on top, my legs akimbo in a sensible sprawl?
“This is not lightweight backpacking,” I counter. “Can’t we go for comfort?”
Apparently not. Meanwhile, Jonathan starts to talk about how nice it would be just to slip into his bivvy sack and sleep under the stars. He looks longingly at his one-person tent.
Our last decision involves water shoes. You can guess who is pro and who is con, and who is welcome to bring them as long as she is willing to carry them.
Luckily, the last three nights of our trip will involve sleeping inside on mattresses, so I think our marriage will survive.
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Camping trials and joys? How compatible are you and your sweetie’s vacation and/or packing preferences?
I give you a lot of credit Lorrie! We used to do wilderness canoe camping for 1-2 weeks, but the last time we car-camped (ocean side camping…) 2 years ago we brought folding cots because getting on the ground was just not gonna happen for me! I used to love really getting away from it all and I still love hearing the outdoor sounds in the morning when you wake up in a tent! Tell your husband there are sleeping bags you can zip 2 together… All the preparation is unreal tho!
Cots sound heavenly!
I have agreed to try a yurt this summer– they supply cots:-)
Have fun!
That sounds like a good way to go, Gloria!
I agree, much prefer sleeping in between 2 sleeping bags, rather than zipped into one! When my daughter was a girl scout, our annual camping trip was on one girl’s grandparent’s country property. We slept in tents, each with our own daughters BUT we could access the house basement bathroom. That was my idea of camping.
Kindred spirits!
How civilized!