I love summer. My family loves summer. We are minorities with darker pigmentation, and obviously, our skin is made for summer. We try to spend as much time outside as humanly possible, soaking up the sun’s rays, before the cold weather and snow arrives. We hike, we visit lakes, we go to fairs, we BBQ, and we even visit a few friends’ pools.
That said, my family does not camp. There, I said it. I admitted it without any shame. And yes, I realize I sound un-Canadian. But it’s the truth. I cannot understand the appeal of camping. At. All.
Camping takes a perfectly good weekend and ruins it. And I can list the ways how:
This may come as no surprise to the majority, but when you go camping, you sleep outside and outside also happens to be where creepy crawlies sleep. This is enough to deter my children and I from wanting to ever sleep in the great outdoors. It just won’t happen. We can hike for hours and play outdoors all day, but you cannot expect one to close their eyes for any length of time on those pesky bugs.
Who knows where they’ll be when you open them.
Our family is one of immigrants. My parents both grew up in households without running water or modern bathroom facilities. They literally went to the fields to take care of business. I see no need to revisit that part of their collective experiences. They left their homelands to come to the Great White North for the sole reason of running water. And perhaps a few other reasons, but really, it’s the running water that sold them.
Why do people find camping fun? It’s not fun. It’s work without pay. It’s worse than work.
First you have to pack up every single thing you need. This essentially amounts to your kitchen, bathroom and bedroom - minus the bed, toilet, shower, and kitchen sink. Or, you know, the most important features of each room. Then you get to the camp ground and have to unpack all that gear. And set up a tent designed by folks who were fired from Ikea’s instruction writing department. And this is all before you even sit down.
You still have to cook and wash dishes in a pail. And find a bathroom.
There is no way to sugar coat this fact and make it sound even remotely pleasant. You’re sleeping on the cold, hard ground in God-knows-what kind of conditions. It could be raining and you’ll still be sleeping on the ground. There could be rocks everywhere underfoot and you’ll still be sleeping on the ground. No fancy sleeping bag or plastic sheet is going to change that. You’re obviously not sleeping a wink is all I’m really saying.
There could be bears, mountain lions, deadly spiders, venomous snakes, poison ivy, ticks, and serial killers. That’s just off the top of my head.
I could go on, but I’m sure you get the point. It’s unsafe. And what if you get hurt? You’re in the middle of nowhere with no medical amenities anywhere. You could be trapped with a broken leg and a serial killer on the loose. What about that scenario sounds so appealing?
I prefer to go home at night where I can lock on the door on any madness out in the wild. I prefer my warm and cozy bed. I prefer to go to the bathroom in a bathroom. I prefer to take showers, not mud baths. I prefer civilization, thank you very much.
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