The Complications of Comfort
Camping in the Rain Invigorates Sense of Adventure
Last weekend I went camping in the rain. There were about thirty-five of us, nearly two-thirds of the original group who had scheduled a December campout just a few miles up the coast. We were ridiculously fortunate in our timing: it seemed that the rain politely inserted itself into convenient time slots in our schedule. We covered our camp-kitchen in tarps. We drove our cargo van right up to the campsite, bringing in a full-size tipi and a small wood-burning chiminea to heat it.
This was no hard-core backpacking trip. But even with all of our creature comforts, we were still camping in the rain: staying warm and dry, making sure our shelters were watertight, and keeping the stove and fires lit, were focal endeavors. Parents looked out for each other’s children, families who had never met were united in devising the most effective tarp-raising techniques. The kids, of course, were undaunted by the rain. One seven-year old spoke for the rest when he said “it’s just no fun with a raincoat on!”
Newts moved up the banks of the creek, camouflaging their rough bodies in fallen oak and sycamore leaves, and inspiring intrepid kids (especially those over the age of 30) to spend drizzly hours on the hunt. The skies cleared at night, making way for a blazing campfire and intent discussion of whether we could see six stars or seven in the constellation Pleiades.
