Camping State of Mind

If you had asked me four years ago if I considered myself the “camping type,” I would have answered you with a resounding “no.” (Remember?)

And while I’m not exactly Bear Gryllis over here, I think I can now say with a fair amount of confidence that I’m a decent camper.

I mean, sure, I’ve only camped in cabins and have zero desire to go it in a tent, but the cabins are about as rustic as it gets: wood boxes with no running water or heat outfitted only with basic wooden bunks where you can curl up in a sleeping bag.

In fact, the only thing I would say I out-and-out dislike about camping is the bathroom situation. (They have a public restroom and shower house at our camp site, but they are a 5-minute walk away and it’s not exactly the Ritz.) But, to be perfectly honest, it’s the showers I truly get icked out by, and I can usually go without if we only stay two nights. Over share? Deal with it.

In general, though, I enjoy most things about camping. I like the food and the relaxation.

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I love hiking an sitting around the campfire. I love the peacefulness of the woods and mountains.

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On the last day, I woke up before everyone else, procured a cup of coffee from the camp shop (ok, I told you we weren’t roughing it completely), and sat by the previous night’s fire embers to soak up the last of the morning’s quiet before breakfast got started.

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So, ok, I’m not a camper, per se. But I’m still pretty happy for a city girl stuck in the woods.