I must confess I was terrified to venture into the elements with a six-month-old infant and a three and six year old in tow. I envisaged all manner of disaster – natural and otherwise. Death by hypothermia, dysentery, flooding, fire, lightning, tree-crushing, sepsis, abduction by foxes or wolves or eagles. And that’s just the list of natural hazards. We’re not talking about the axe-murderers who lurk about campsites or the sickos who steal children from holiday parks. These things happen. Read the Daily Mail. I even called our GP four days before our departure about my infant son’s chesty cough and snotty nose. I was hoping she’d say: “Under no circumstances can you take a baby into the bush. Are you stark raving mad!” But she didn’t. She reminded me of saline drops and Olbas oil and said to enjoy our time. “But we’re going camping, ” I said. “Outdoors, you know. With no heating,” I continued. “Won’t he get bronchitis? Pneumonia?”“He’ll be fine”, she reassured. “I’m not so sure about you though”, was her parting shot. Never a truer word said in jest.
So with no sick note precluding our youngest and I from joining the ridiculously excited remainder of the family - we set off to join our friends in the fields of England. Last year, we borrowed our equipment. We tried to wing it. It wasn’t pretty. Well for me anyway. My husband loved it. So did my son. If it were up to them, they’d still be in that field in the New Forest today. In the mud. Bushy man and skinny little boy frolicking together around a fire with sticks. My daughter and I were the skeptics. We like a warm bath, hot meal and a flushing loo that doesn’t require a torch a pair of wellies to visit. We’re funny like that.
The deal going forward with this camping thing was that if we had all the essentials, I’d give it a go. A serious go. With no guest lodge as back-up. My whining button turned to the mildly unpleasant setting. So three months ago, a pitch was booked and my husband became an online shopping fanatic. He trawled every camping site known to Google and stalked all the forums debating tent and awning dimensions. He became a man possessed. He once literally woke me up to show me a pre-owned roof box on sale by someone who lived 200 miles away. He just had to drive for 6 hours and the box would be ours. When he eventually slept, the man dreamt of racks. And not the kind of racks a normal red-blooded man dreams of, mind you. We’re talking about roof racks. Metal bars that straddle a car. Upon which you attach a roof box. Camping gear has become kryptonite to his credit card. The courier companies now know me by name. They’ve visited us so often. Our living room is littered with the corpses of cardboard boxes. He debated more about the type of tent to buy than I think he ever did about any of our major life decisions – love, marriage, the baby carriage. The net effect? Besides a seriously dented savings account…we now literally and figuratively own a shedload of camping stuff. Does that make us campers? It’s like when you bring home a new baby from the hospital and you have all the stuff. The cot, the nappies, the wipes, the steriliser, nipple shields…et al. But does having all the stuff make you a parent? I’m not so sure. Camping court is still in session on that one.
What I am sure about though are the lessons I have learnt from our second sojourn into the sticks:
- A tent that inflates with a pump is a godsend if you’ve got lots of ferals underfoot and one of you has to take care of them. Click-happy-camper husband was clever to buy one.
- An electrical hookup is non-negotiable. Well for me anyway. Electricity changed the world. Why should one suffer without it? You don’t get extra points for not having it. There’s no King of Camping who dubs you a true warrior of the wilderness if you manage to survive sans sparkle. You get nothing. You do get cold though. And dark. And a soggy cooler box with lukewarm beer and sour milk. And a phone/ipad/ipod with a flat battery.
- For us, cot campbeds are way more comfortable than blow-up mattresses. We’ll never go back to jiggling alongside each other. Well not on a camping trip anyway.
- You can never have too many lights. Darkness makes me feel vulnerable. It’s a South African thing I think. Fear of the dark and what creepies or creepos may lie in wait. I wanted to sleep with a nightlight on…for the children of course, but my husband initially refused on grounds of lunacy. I wouldn’t give up until he explained that we could all die in an excruciating canvas inferno if the lamp fell over in a strong wind and the tent caught fire. I begrudgingly acquiesced and agreed to forgo the nightlight. I’m not a complete psycho. And these things happen. Check the Daily Mail.
- Bringing a toaster is the way forward for breakfast.
- A fan heater takes the chill out of the air before bed and first thing in the morning when your kids wake up at ridiculous o’clock. This heater turns off when it falls over - so the risk of burning alive in the tent is very low. We checked this.
- We need to take an electric kettle next time. Quicker to heat the baby’s food and warm milk. Also nice for a cuppa. Especially at 5am when you need intravenous caffeine to start the day.
- We still need clothing and kitchen organisers to tame the domestic beast. I want to scratch my eyes out when the tent is strewn with damp towels, dirty clothes and grocery bits and bobs. And I couldn’t find a big flashing neon Vegas billboard in all the chaos, let alone the partner shoe to a pair of slip-ons hidden underneath all the debris.
- We can
- I so need a Shewee and a Peebol. Google them. And a camping mirror for the tent. It may be camping, but I still have my pride. And I'm vain.
Moving on from camping and domestic necessities, I also learnt that:
- Children come alive on camping trips. The outdoors captivates them. They explore. And play. In a pack. And the pack takes care of their own. The older ones tend to the younger ones. They have the time of their lives. And it's these times that will form the fabric of the most treasured memories of their childhood. And let's face it - what's not to love? Days filled with friends and fun, extended bedtimes, less vegetables, fewer baths.
- Camping is a great way to explore Britain. To see new places and experience historical sites. At your own pace. On your own schedule.
- Camping with friends allows you the opportunity to get to know each other. Really get to know each other. Away from the everyday routine. Away from school pick-ups, drop offs, work commitments and all the flotsam and jetsam of everyday life. Free from conversations punctuated by “I’ve got to go…” or “Chat later…”.
- There’s no better feeling after a full day of adventure with your children than sitting late at night around a campfire with your friends. Toasting marshallows laced in Baileys. Drinking red wine. Talking nonsense. Laughing. The children sleeping soundly a few feet away. Feeling blessed. And bone-shatteringly exhausted. But content. And happy. And did I say exhausted?
Have stuff, must camp. That’s our motto for this year. Until next time... when the Camping Chronicles will continue.
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| Packed to the roof racks en route to Dorset - our second camping crusade |
