I’m back from a two-day camping trip.
We got there on Friday evening and set up the tent. Everything was going great that night - until we got ready to sleep and I discovered that our air mattress had a puncture.
So I ended up sleeping on the floor in a sleeping bag. Unfortunately, the ground was not exactly designed for comfort. The rocks kept finding new ways to remind me of their existence every time I turned or twisted.
The next day, we went on an adventurous hike in the rain. It was an uphill climb that sucked the energy out of us. On the way back, it started raining even harder, and the downhill trail became incredibly slippery. Somehow, we managed to make it back without any major incidents.
That night, we also got to see some stars, which was pretty great.
While all of this may sound like fun and, in some ways, it was, but it wasn’t entirely my idea of a good time.
I have to admit that I’m probably not built for camping. With two kids, there’s just so much stuff to carry, set up, clean up, worry about, and somehow keep everyone happy.
At this point, I think camping is more hassle than fun for me.
Maybe I’ll feel differently the next time. Or maybe I’ll just book a hotel or a cottage.