Trail Chaser: 10 Things I Hate About Camping

The summer season is wrapping up, and Hawk wanted to get in a camping trip this year. Not backpacking, which I literally cannot do, but loading up the car and tenting at a campground. It's been a while, between the pandemic and our busy schedules. Which was entirely fine by me! But I agreed to go. The trip did not improve my opinion of camping.

We chose to explore Pawtuckaway in southern NH, a park I have wanted to hike in for several years. It gave us the option to combine all of our main outdoor summer activities in one trip; biking, hiking, and paddleboarding. The car was going to be loaded! Pawtuckaway is a very popular state park, so we had high hopes.

There wasn't anything essentially wrong with the campsite, if you like camping. The park itself was lovely, and we did get in the activities we wanted, if on a smaller scale than hoped. But the weekend pretty much epitomized all of the reasons I do NOT like camping.

1. Logistics. It really comes down to not having functional amenities. Living out of a cooler, not having even a basic kitchen or sink, public bathrooms with questionable showers located far from your setup… I don't need luxury, but at least the basics go a long way to easing the inconvenience of not being home.

2. Double the stress of normal vacations. Travel is anxiety inducing enough. Add in these logistical issues and that stress not only multiplies, but is sustained throughout the entire trip. There is little "settling in" effect because you still need to deal with the bullshit of "roughing it" and not having basic necessities.

3. Set up and break down time. The settling in you do while camping entails spending hours unloading your vehicle, figuring out where to put everything, setting up the tent, and so on. Plus timing out when you need to start a fire in the evening so you can cook your dinner at a reasonable hour. None of which is a huge deal if you are planning to mainly hang around the campsite all day and night, but when you want to also do some significant hiking and other activities, that severely cuts into your available time. On check out day, you experience all of that in reverse, with the fun addition of laying out anything that needs to dry (tent, tarp, etc.) before you can pack it away (or repeating the process at home to prevent mold.) Honestly, it hardly seems worth the effort.

4. Weather and bugs. You can't control the former, and camping season inevitably coincides with the latter. You can only do so much to deal with either. The bugs are an annoyance, but weather is a legitimate concern, because you really need fair conditions to successfully camp, but there is no way to predict the weather as far out as you need to make reservations. We have camped in steady rain before, and dealt with it, but spending the entire day stuck in the tent was not the experience we were going for. Of course, there are no refunds for cancelling reservations, so basically you're screwed either way. We luckily stayed mostly dry this weekend, despite the weather not being at all what was forecast, but it's yet another logistical worry to add in.

5. I just need a kitchen. Nearly half my travel stress centers around food, due to having multiple allergies. It's hard enough to pack everything I need for a weekend in a hotel, or heck, even visiting family. But camping adds in having to entirely live out of a cooler and ensuring it maintains enough ice, which is not ideal storage for all of my foods, figuring out what foods even work for a camp situation, and not having sufficient prep space, or more importantly a sink! I can deal with roughing it for a day or two cooking solely with fire and a hot plate, but not having a sink particularly aggravates me.

6. Everything is dirty. Look, I like nature. But I don't want it in my dinner. I want a clean surface to prepare food on, clean utensils, and again, a freaking sink to maintain cleanliness. Do you know how many times I normally wash my hands while I'm cooking?! If nothing else, ability to clean is essential for avoiding cross contamination when dealing with food restrictions. Not only mine, but Hawk's as well. And where am I supposed to wash the dishes etc. after cooking? At one previous campground, there was at least a relatively functional dishwashing station (which we had to haul our kitchenware to and from), but Pawtuckaway had no option beyond a cold water spigot. We made it "work" but it was far from ideal. And one peek at the shower confirmed I wouldn't be setting foot in it. Come on people, basic sanitation is not exactly asking for a luxury resort!

7. Frustrations of communal bathrooms. I generally say as long as I have a toilet of some sort, I'm happy. But that applies more to day hiking, where the alternative is attempting to squat in the woods. (Which simply does not work for me.) When you are spending the night somewhere, however, you need more than a place to relieve yourself. You need a decent way to brush your teeth, wash your face, and so on. (If skipping these things is fine with you, then congratulations. But I don't find them optional.) I am grateful to have any sort of bathroom to make do with, but the ones at Pawtuckaway added to my frustration mainly because the sinks were the kind with the knobs that don't leave the water running. So simply washing your hands after going to the bathroom is difficult enough, because you can only "wash" one hand at a time. And there's no hot water there either. It was also fun trying to wash my face in the morning, one side at a time. I mean, at least there was water, but it definitely was one of many little things that piled on to my stress levels. Not being able/willing to use that truly disturbing looking shower didn't help either, as I felt disgusting covered in sunblock and sweat and campfire smoke and God knows what else. Add in the fact that using the bathroom required a quarter mile hike, things don't always go smoothly, if you know what I mean.

8. Sleeping bags. I'm not a fan. Certainly I don't mind being "stuck" in one with my partner, practically forcing us to cuddle close (which bless Hawk for still wanting to, us being all gross and unshowered), but it can get a little bit claustrophobic without the ability to move my legs out. I'm a major fidgeter, and toss and turn at night, which invariably causes the bag to shift and twist. I was going to say having two people in the bag makes this worse, but in hindsight, I think I may actually get less twisted up in the bag with Hawk stabilizing it (somewhat) than I use to alone, as a kid. Still, having two people in a sleeping bag does cause some amount of shifting, and with less surface area than a standard bedsheet, the "blanket stealing" happens more easily. I suppose if I zipped the bag up all the way, this wouldn't be a problem, but then I'm back to the bigger issue of feeling trapped in the bag. So I only partially zip it. I guess this is mostly a personal problem, but did I mention a lot of little things adding up this weekend to foul my mood?

9. Insufficient lighting. Perhaps one of the most minor frustrations is the lighting issue. It's difficult to read or write by inconveniently placed lamps. They give nice ambiance, and of course they're better than having nothing but a flashlight after dark, but the setup does interfere with my evening routine. Laying in bed, trying to journal, my hand cast a dark shadow on the paper no matter how I angled it, due to the location of the lamp hanging overhead. I literally couldn't see what I was writing. It just topped off the multiple small aggravations of the day.

10. Deflating air mattresses. The pinnacle of bad camping experiences happened when it came time for bed. Normally, I don't have an issue with air mattresses; the big kind you'd use for house guests. A good one doesn't bother my back too much for a night or two. Unfortunately, Hawk's mattress became a victim of age and likely temperature fluctuations in his storage unit, and decided this was the weekend to die. It was already deflating when we entered the tent, so we refilled it before turning in, hoping it was a fluke (but knowing full well it was going to be an issue, because why wouldn't something else go wrong?) Approximately every two hours throughout the night I woke up, increasingly in pain, sinking into the pit formed by a half inflated bed. Hawk would dutifully reinflate it each time, return to bed, and repeat two hours later. Again and again, until finally morning came and we could climb out of the damn thing. Needless to say, it was one of the worst night's sleep I've had in a while.

Dear God, I needed some extreme recentering after all of that. And it was just the beginning of day two. Hawk's original plan was three days and two nights. Thankfully I didn't have to break it to him that I couldn't deal with another night there, as he decided the best course of action was to pack up and leave after a bit of paddleboarding. While I feel bad for him missing out on the full experience of something he wanted to do, as well as for me not getting to hike everywhere I wanted to, I was very happy to be going "home" (to Hawk's apartment). Not that a bachelor pad is a huge upgrade in every department, but at least it has functional amenities and a bed that doesn't kill me.

While Hawk had his breakfast at the campsite, I biked down to the beach not quite a mile away, yoga mat slung over my back. I was hoping early morning would be peaceful there, but there were already people starting to put together a set up for the day. There was also an odd beeping endlessly happening somewhere nearby, which was a bit grating. Still, it was a nicer spot to do yoga than the campsite, with the lake offering a relaxing backdrop, so I laid out my mat, focused on the water and sand and sky, and honored my needs. Later, after I dealt with the rest of my own morning routine, we returned to the beach with our boards for some SUPing. Pawtuckaway has a beautiful lake sprinkled with adorable tiny islands. It was definitely the highlight of the trip for me, and I hope to go back to paddle more of it some day.

I need to return for hiking as well. On our first day, after finally getting all the camping shit put together, we set out for a bike hike, intending to ride across the park to the hiking trails and points of interest. Unfortunately the route we chose was not ideal for biking (contrary to what we were told), and we had to dismount and continue on foot, bikes locked to a tree, sooner than planned. It was a decent hiking trail though, and we at least hit the fire tower and summit of South Mt. Sadly, having to return to the bikes, and with evening around the corner (because we started so late), we were unable to continue on to the boulder field, which I most wanted to see. Another day! And only for the day!

So WHY, if I hate camping so much, did I agree to go, esp. more than once in all these years?? Well, there are a few positives to such a trip, although I maintain that every single one of them can be had without overnight tent camping. (Except perhaps the last.)

1. It's an opportunity to explore a new area, and enjoy activities such as hiking, biking, paddling, etc. Yup, all of which can be done as a day trip or by renting an actual room.

2. Sitting by the fire is nice, at least for a little while (until I get antsy and there's nowhere else to go). Even roasting hot dogs or whatever over the fire is a novelty I don't mind. My argument against that? You can do exactly the same thing with a fire pit in your backyard. You know, where there's a kitchen and all that just steps away.

3. I will never deny that nature sounds are relaxing. I suppose the fact that Hawk lives in the city explains his stronger reaction to them. When I'm home, I still hear nature, rather than traffic, daily sirens, and people yelling in the street. (Though I do hear traffic too, but it's more muffled through trees and certainly lighter than the greater Portland area.) Ok, opening windows at home doesn't offer the same "surround sound" as sleeping in a tent. But if you have a sleeping porch, I wager it's not all that different! Except for having all the conveniences of home right there. So there's the solution - live in the country! And if you need more, like being able to hear loons calling all night (which they literally did; I had no idea they were nocturnal, but I heard them all those million times I woke up on the stupid dying air mattress), then rent a cabin where you can experience that without giving up necessary amenities.

4. Eventually there's nothing left to do but cuddle. Nights are longer when you don't have electricity. Darkness falls and it's time to hit the sack, er, sleeping bag. So you lay there talking and spooning, until you're at last ready to sleep. Again though, this honestly is no different than any other night together, with the exception that maybe it just lasts a bit longer due to turning in earlier. I rarely complain about an opportunity to snuggle, but seriously, it's far from limited to camping.

5. "Team building." When we work together, Hawk and I generally have pretty good teamwork. I love opportunities that provide that, as I find it bonding, and proof of a solid relationship. Camping does require several instances of teamwork, I won't deny. But of course we can benefit from nearly the same activities, in essence, through other situations. No camping required.

6. It's an exercise in stepping out of my comfort zone. That definitely was a valid reason for me to try camping the first time. Not so much in subsequent trips. Certainly it remains out of my comfort zone, but as with every other point here, there are plenty of other activities that are healthier personal pushes for me. Like judging the annual community "dog show" for Old Home Week, which Hummingbird roped me into doing. Way out of my comfort zone, but professionally appropriate and beneficial. Camping meanwhile just causes frustration. And if stress has already been building, as it was this weekend, it puts me over threshold. And that is never beneficial to anyone.

7. But I do it for Hawk. Truly, this is the ONLY reason I agree to camp on rare occasions. Because Hawk longs to do it, and for some reason he wants to go with me. While I obviously find it pointless and often annoying, I am physically capable of this kind of camping (when everything doesn't go wrong), so I do it for him. He does a lot for me, so it only seems fair.

I guess that sums it up… To quote Disney's Hercules, "people do crazy things when they're in love."

I'll leave you with some photos of the parts of our trip that were actually good. The parts that we could have easily done as a day trip. Yeah, those parts.