The Joys of Camping
Why do people pack up their things and leave the comfort of their homes to go in some remote forest or the beach carrying sometimes heavy essential things on their back while towing the line to a paid and reserved campsite? Well, well people do that for fun, for the thrill, for the experience, for an affordable holiday to spend time with loved ones, build and create memories, to relax, escape from the office and something to do in the summer. If you live in a place like my Victoria, where the rural areas abound with mountains, ocean and valley landscapes, at least once in your life you would have thought about or tried camping. In my case, it’s a little bit of everything.
Let me take you to the time camping first came about in my life. In my home country (tropical Philippines) and in an era devoid of electronics such as cellphone, computers, tablets and the likes, it is easy to be creative simply because you don’t have a choice. You are most of the time required to improvise. In school, we all have a dose of being scouts, rangers and ours was called the Pathfinder club. It was through the Pathfinder club that I learned flag signs and whistle codes. Of course, I totally forgot about them at my age now. Pathfinder usually runs most of the activities during camp. Our camping was, get ready for this, on campus! Building our own tents out of coconut and banana leaves. My grandfather was very good at crafts and he taught me how to weave coconut leaves to build a temporary shelter. At camping time, there was even a competition for the best-pitched tent. We were grouped by fours. You can’t pick your groupmates and sure enough, you run the risk of unfavorable groupmates. This random grouping introduced me to communal living.
As an adult now and living on the other side of the globe, I longed for the thrill of camping as it never escaped me. Perhaps it was the unleashing of creativity and the thrill of it that lived in me. The first time I was invited by friends to camp was somewhere in the Ipperwash next to a golf course and approximately 3 hours southwest of Toronto. My expectations rising as I beam with excitement. The drive itself was a treat. The campground was a beautiful park. By beautiful I mean it had facilities. A shower room, playground equipment, complete electricity hook up, even a choo-choo train that brings the children around the campsite. My excitement slowed rapidly. I expected to create my own fire from stones or sticks. The second night, this point in time I came to terms with glamping.
In the west coast at an island in the Strait of Georgia, between Vancouver Islands and the mainland sits a campsite where it overlooks the ocean. Completely aware of the weather forecast that weekend, two of my friends and I headed to Salt Spring island late on a late Friday afternoon and camped at Ruckle Park. We pitched our tent with just enough sunlight until we were reunited with darkness a few moments shortly. Sure enough, it poured the whole night and wary that water might creep in. It was a chance with time to talk endlessly about everything we could ever think of. You would be surprised to find out the varied subjects, topics covered that never leaves a mind idle. From politics to current events to family dramas, ideas, events, people or to a completely gibberish memory. Confined in a tent under the pouring rain when the noise of Mother Nature surrounds you, in between being awake and asleep, the sound of rain and the waves in the nearby ocean brings tranquility. You only have to open your heart to receive the magic of that moment.
Last week, we drove west of Victoria to camp at China Beach. My friend had a trailer in tow, but I preferred the tent to bring me back to the ground, to the earth. It was another late afternoon and sunlight was still our friend. Our campsite was located in the woods, about a kilometer away from the beach. When the tent was pitched, we hiked down and I had thoughts to wait and capture the sunset. The trail down was canopied by trees in the forest. When it gets dark, it may be tricky to get back to camp. From a few lookouts of the beach below, darting your gaze through the curtained trees lies the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Past the strait are the mountains of Washington state. On a clear day, you can see the snow-capped mountains up ahead.
I woke up to the caaws and cooos of the crow. The tent lay quiet, I looked outside and the campsite was still. I sneaked out and quietly headed down the beach. The forest was calm, I can only hear birds chirping, squirrels gliding as they do their morning rituals. The Juan de Fuca Provincial Park is safe and the trails are well marked. I didn’t hear any warning nor a sighting of the bigger wild. I took my time to trek as I absorbed the silence of the forest. The beach was foggy. I did my stretches while I filled my lungs with fresh clean air. I closed my eyes, oblivious to everything around me. Grateful for this moment and this creation right here right now. I let go of barriers and bounds as I threw myself into the adventure of living. I connected with the Divine and once again filled another page in my book of moments.
Indeed camping provides you with space to just be. Away from the ruckus of urban life
It is also a good excuse to indulge in the chips and marshmallows and hotdogs and sodas…
It makes you realize that you only need a few things in life as opposed to what you want. It grounds you back to the basics
It is a more affordable way of vacation
And more importantly, camping connects you to yourself, nature and the universe.
