Camping is one of those strange things, like picking your own fruit, that is labour-intensive leisure. And we love it. Few things are more North American than s’mores, campfires, sleeping in a humid tent and peeing in sketchy outhouses.
What is it about leaving the comforts of home for a night’s sleep on a pine-cone filled forest floor that relaxes and refreshes?
I think it’s that camping reminds of us of the simple joys in life. It makes us grateful for crispy toast and scrambled eggs.
Somehow, when camping, time spent around a fire in the twilight warms toes, darkens marshmallows and deepens friendship.
There’s something about living amongst creation, nestled in woods and beaches, that inspires awe.
(I’ll be honest. Waking up to a shriveled insect embedded into the place on my mat where my head had rested, was a little closer to nature than I’d like…)
The pile of sandy laundry, the cooler-soaked groceries and the sunburned cheeks are all worth it.