Outsidey, not Outdoorsey
I don’t come from a camping family. My dad was in the navy, and loves a good Weber grill. However “hardy”, “outdoorsy” – these aren’t words that come to mind when I think of him. My mom’s dad liked to fish; his son (Peter) also loved to spend time outdoors, boating, fishing, camping. I don’t really know why my mom didn’t cotton on to this the same way. Given the era she grew up in, I don’t know if she was invited or encouraged to spend as much time outdoors as her brother, but I would guess she also likely didn’t have a ton of innate interest in it.
So it makes sense that we weren’t a camping family. We spent a fair amount of time outdoors – on long bike rides along the Sacramento River; hiking on summer road trips; whole days spent at the beach or the river while on vacation. As a kid, I would take any opportunity to put my body in water. I would swim in the coldest oceans on cloudy days and my family always had to cajole me to get out so we could get going on to the next thing. But outside of those bike rides and beach days, I mostly remember my time spent outdoors as involving a lot of meandering, sitting, and watching.
Dad was often working and unable to join us for vacations, so we would go to visit Nana and then bring her along on trips to Monterey or Mendocino. My mom loves the ocean and instilled that love into her kids as well through these frequent trips, mostly up and down the California coastline. Although she also loves to walk along the beach and hunt for shells in the surf, one of her favorite things, still, is to find a good spot – on the beach or high up above – and just plant herself for awhile. Maybe she has a book, but mostly she’ll just sit and watch and listen to the ocean, maybe close her eyes for a bit and feel the sea spray or wind flying onto her face. She loved this at 40 (and probably at 20) just as much as she loves it at 70 and this, coupled with often having Nana in tow, meant good chunks of our coastal vacations were spent whiled away on the beach or on a cliff overlooking the ocean. Or we would visit botanical gardens or missions and stroll slowly through the grounds.
In this way, it wouldn’t be correct to say I haven’t always, on some level, appreciated the outdoors. I, too, love being near the ocean and that never waned as I grew up. But I’ve learned to appreciate the hills and the forest, too, and now I spend more time moving through (and deeper into) nature, rather than just observing it from a remove.
In the Pacific Northwest particularly, it’s easy to feel like it’s a contest and that the less active you are the less real your love of nature is. For too long this played a part in stopping me both from getting out there and from considering myself a nature lover. ‘How could I love nature if I couldn’t withstand a 5 mile hike?’ I asked myself. I see clearly now how absolutely unrelated those two things are.
A Poor Start
I have a vivid memory of the first time I tried to go hiking with friends as an adult. In retrospect, this venture was doomed from the start in many ways. It was early spring, maybe March or April, and we were headed to an area with some elevation – I didn’t know then, but quickly learned, that this could mean some snow still on the ground in the upper reaches of the hike. We were all in our early 20s, freshly graduated from college – the hike was, for me, an attempt to bond with some new friends from my Americorps cohort after a recent move to a new city. They were all going hiking, they invited me, and I didn’t want to be left out of this still newly forming group – I didn’t want to miss anything important.
Having never really hiked, I was under prepared. I didn’t have the right shoes, I seem to remember I may have been wearing jeans. I think I did bring a water bottle, but not much else. I was one of the drivers that day and I remember a slight sense of unease as I picked people up – it seemed like every one else had a backpack and snacks, some people had an extra pair of shoes (hiking boots), one person even brought hiking poles. I was out of my depth. Now, I don’t really blame my fellow hikers – we were all young and they were all fit. I think it was nice that they didn’t look at my oversized frame and presume I couldn’t handle it. By dent of doing an Americorps stint, we were all smart, capable, kind, young people, but I think also by the same logic, we were all naive. No one questioned whether anyone else was up for it, everyone presumed we all knew what we were doing and were equally comfortable. I had a personal responsibility to flag if I couldn’t hack it (or just not to join in the first place), but I didn’t know enough to know what I didn’t know.
I made it about half way up the hike and had been struggling the whole way. I kept falling behind the group and one of the other hikers, Megan, very kindly slowed her own pace to stay with me. Several of the hikers would loop back to check on us as we made our way along and then they would disappear ahead again as they easily caught back up with the group. I felt deep shame and embarassment the entire way, but Megan kept up a steady conversation and helped alternately distract and encourage me.
I finally reached the rest of the group at a spot where they were taking an extended break and deciding what to do next. At this point in the trail, we were starting to encounter snow. I was so relieved to catch up and take a break, but (predictably) just as I was arriving they were ready to set out again. They decided to keep going at least a bit further – the snow wasn’t deep, most people had the right gear or just were willing to make do. I couldn’t do it, I wasn’t willing to do it. I told everyone I was going to turn back and head down to the car and wait. Everyone, kindly, protested, and tried to encourage me – “it won’t be that bad”, “you can do it”, “we want you with us” – I don’t remember the exact words, though that was the gist. But I held firm, I knew my limits and they’d already been exceeded. So we split up, Megan initially tried to come down with me, but I insisted she get some time with the group and join them instead, she had already done so much for me. Frankly, I also just wanted to be alone. I needed space to really feel bad.
I walked back down the trail alone, cold, somewhat wet, and just feeling deeply ashamed, beating myself up and wishing I was stronger, fitter, thinner; or had been smart enough to know not to come in the first place. I remember arriving at the car, getting inside and turning the heat on, and just sitting in the driver’s seat, crying. It would be 7 years before I hiked again.
A Gentle Re-entry
Over the last 11 years, I’ve remembered I like to be outside and figured out I like to hike, too. I almost entirely credit my husband, Kendall, for this. We started dating in late Spring 2014 and within a month Kendall had taken me on a (flat) walk along Trillium Lake with some friends of his as a sort of double date. He didn’t do plan it this way on purpose, but it was literally the perfect way to get me back out there. This wasn’t the first time I was meeting Alex & Lulu, but it was the first time I was really spending a chunk of time with them. I felt some pressure to be on my best behavior and give a good impression, but in a way that made me eager to please and ready to be flexible, rather than making me anxious, which was lucky. They had a small child in tow (I wanna say Max was 3 or 4 at the time), the trail is a loop around the lake under 2 miles, with no elevation gain. We stopped constantly – for Max to look at an old log, to stop and watch a spider build his web, to look at the Trillium flowers blooming at the edges of the trail. I never got tired and had a wonderful time.
After this, Kendall and I were constantly outside and going on hikes or walks those first several years. I remember paddling on Olallie Lake with another of Kendall’s dear friends, Tom. It was my first time in a boat probably since I was a child in Uncle Peter’s boat, fishing somewhere in or near the Rogue River. A lot of things I did with Kendall outside were like this, they felt like familiar echoes of things I hadn’t thought of in 20 or 30 years, like deja Vu sometimes.
From the beginning, Kendall has been the ideal hiking partner. I told him my formative hiking story and on some of our first more strenuous hikes he saw how I struggled both physically and mentally. He has always been encouraging in a way that doesn’t feel infantilizing or pitying, and he’s good at finding the moment to say the hard, true thing that will help you. We take as many breaks as I want and he never (intentionally) makes me feel rushed, like I’m going too slow or taking too long. Usually when I sense that he’s impatient and say so, it ends up just being me anxious that he’s impatient, rather than him actually being impatient. I feel safe out there with him. He’ll never leave me behind/go on ahead, he’s good at reading trail maps and figuring out confusing or unmarked trails, and as a bonus he gets both more philosophical and more gentle while we’re out on hikes. He’s both these things already/at home, but the grind of every day life means you glimpse it less on the couch than out in the woods. I love being in the woods or on a cliff or behind a waterfall with Kendall.
He’s been there for all my hardest hikes (well, he’s been there for almost all my hikes. I think I’ve done maybe two solo over this last decade and have taken my mom out a few times). He’s had to talk me down off the ledge (figuratively and literally) when I’ve been sure I couldn’t do it (but did). He’s had to calm and soothe me when I really couldn’t do it and all those old emotions come rushing back.
However, I’ve felt pretty down about how little I’ve hiked over the past couple years. We hiked a lot those first few years we were together, and before we lived together it was a great way to spend a whole day together. After we moved in, we got a cat, I at one point was working 3 jobs, and we just stayed home more. As you do in a relationship, we got more comfortable, and we got fat (fatter) together. Then the pandemic hit. Lots of people flocked to the outdoors during that time, but we mostly hunkered down. Every year we’ve been together, we’ve spent time outdoors, but it’s been less frequent of late and I’ve been itching to get out there more.
Kendall spent most of this spring hiking pretty constantly, solo, getting in shape for a planned backpack in July. I could have joined for some of these prep hikes, but for the most part he was doing somewhat strenuous hikes with elevation gain and/or mileage, and I also usually just didn’t feel up for it anyway.
As a total aside, I am constantly torn between the desire to get outdoors and the desire to sleep in. Hikes, while not exclusively for morning people, seem to be designed for them. As I’ve become more comfortable hiking (and also just more comfortable in my own skin and more willing to advocate for myself), I’ve been wanting to start hiking with other people again, but most people who like to hike want to be leaving the trail by 3pm, not just starting out. However, at least in summer when the sun sets at 9pm, I’ve found that a late start works almost as well as an early start for avoiding busy times on the trail.
As we were doing all that avid hiking early on in our relationship, Kendall broached the topic of camping. I initially was wary, to say the least. I think of myself as the living embodiment of “I’m outsidey, not outdoorsy”. Even as my love for hiking and being outdoors has grown, I’ve continued to draw some lines in the sand. I like to pee inside, thanks. Preferably with running water and flush toilets, but a pit/vault toilet will work in a pinch. I don’t like going more than a day without a shower. These things alone are prohibitive for tent camping, at least for very long, but I also had no experience camping and therefore, no gear. Kendall had some gear, but he also had not used it in some time. Nonetheless, a couple years in we tried a single night of camping, for a friend’s wedding.
A Trial Run
The wedding seemed like a good moment to do a camping trial run. There were bathrooms, first of all, so that part was easy. It was a wedding & reception with after party and we would likely not be doing much other than sleeping in the tent – we didn’t need to set up a full camp, plan meals, or spend lots of time there, it was only 1 night. Unfortunately, it rained cats & dogs while we were there. This started in earnest during the couples’ first dance and they embraced it, getting soaked in the process – it was a beautiful moment. The party went on and over the next few hours we all alternately spent time on the lawn (or in the lake!) or on the dock when the rain let up, and then huddled under the event tents when the sky opened up once more.
Kendall had set our tent up before the wedding started, when we finally crawled in late at night it was still raining pretty hard and parts of the tent were a little damp, but it seemed mostly serviceable. I fell asleep cold and uncomfortable, but luckily just tipsy & tired enough to not really mind too much. Within an hour or two, we both woke up in a puddle. As the rain had continued, the ground underneath had become muddy, the tent flooded. I woke up wet and miserable, and to find some of my clothes stored in the corner of the tent soaked through. After a moment’s consideration, Kendall bundled me into the car and began to break down the tent in the now torrential downpour. We left sometime between 3-4am and began the hour or so’s drive back into Portland, sleepy but fully sobered up by the ordeal.
I knew that night was a fluke. Kendall’s tent turned out to be less than ideal and may have had a hole in it – in any event, he threw it out upon our return. It wasn’t originally forecast to rain like that, and it just was relentless. Even a high quality tent without a hole in it would’ve struggled to keep someone completely dry in those conditions. Our camping spot wasn’t entirely flat and the small ditch underneath us contributed to the water pooling up the way it did. But it had been so miserable and I had already been skeptical, so that little foray into camping pretty much extinguished any even dawning or slight desire I had to spend the night outside, for a good long while (about 10 years).
Kendall’s backpacking trip this summer didn’t go as planned. He ended up needing to cut it short & return home early, but just being out there for one night (well, and all the prep and planning and gear he had bought in advance) reignited the desire in him to try again (and to try again to convince me lol). Fortunately, in the intervening years since that ill-fated “camping trip”, I’ve softened towards it. I’ve also made several friends since then who love to camp & backpack and do both, often. Hearing their stories, seeing Kendall’s adventures, and yearning to find ways to get outside more, I finally felt ready & even eager to try it again, too.
A Better Trial Run
We had started to plan our annual Fall vacation and had been struggling with how to be on the road as long as possible without spending all of our money. I remembered a place my family stayed when I was a kid, on one of those many coastal vacations. We stayed in rustic cabins and I initially looked at those, but they were basically the same price as a hotel. However, the property also had tent camping sites and a generous cancellation policy. Kendall had also planned another “trial run” camping trip for September, in Cottonwood Canyon, where he has camped before. We figured if that was a disaster, we could pivot and change our October camping plans, too – so we booked the site.
Now that Kendall had recently upgraded his gear, he largely had us covered. I just needed to figure out some basics – a sleeping bag and pad, at least. I went to a local outdoor shop where they sell both new and used gear. I walked in and was immediately greeted by a friend, who I didn’t even know worked there – it felt like a good omen. I explained to Shorty that I wanted to get gear that was comfortable enough for me not to hate it but also wasn’t, like, top of the line or super expensive – because this could be potentially the only time I use it. An enthusiastic camper and backpacker himself, he basically said ‘say no more’ and helped me find the perfect sleeping bag and pad, explaining as we went the benefits of X vs. Y and helping me make good decisions with his no-bullshit advice. I left both literally and figuratively better equipped for our camping trip, getting more excited to go.
And camping at Cottonwood Canyon went great! We only did one night and while it was windy when we first arrived and set up camp, the wind died down in the evening and the stars were out in full force.
I had trouble sleeping, but that was unsurprising – I always have trouble sleeping, and being in an unfamiliar place, sleeping in a tent, not having my usual sleep aids all contributed to a somewhat fitful night. But each time I awoke, there were stars up above, or coyotes (or wolves?) howling in the (alarmingly close) distance, I could feel a light breeze whispering through the tent, and Kendall was there right beside me (fast asleep lol) – it was magical. I also learned a lot, about what I really need and what I don’t, what to bring next time and what to leave at home, what worked to share with Kendall and what I wanted to have of my own.
We generally love to travel during the Fall shoulder season and we got married during this time of year partly so we’d always have a good excuse to disappear for awhile in the autumn. However, camping, at the Northern California coast, in Fall, was a bit of a risk. Cottonwood Canyon is high desert – it had been windy, but dry. We didn’t even use the rain fly. As we got closer to our Fall travel dates, we checked the weather constantly. It initially looked like it would be dry, but cold. Then in the days before we left, it shifted – there would definitely be some rain passing through, but it seemed like the worst of it would be happening the day we left. Kendall assured me his newer gear was up to the task if it did rain. Additionally, our campsite was under a canopy of trees, which would help shield us from the rain somewhat. Finally, we figured if it really got bad we could improvise on the fly – sleep in the car or make the call to find a hotel. The nice thing about how we planned this was that the camping was occuring the first two days of our road trip – so I had the attitude that even if it went badly, it was just two nights and we were in hotels the rest of the trip.
The Real Test
We arrived in Trinidad around 4pm the day of check-in. We got to our site, which we had selected online just based on a property map, and realized it was closer to the road, more exposed, and just less flat than we would have liked. The benefit of it being October and these being tent sites is that practically all of the sites around us were unoccupied. We walked through them and selected our favorite then went back to front desk to confirm it was okay for us to move – they updated our parking & site tags with the new site number and we proceeded to set up camp. Or, rather, Kendall proceeded to set up camp. I helped a little when it was just easier to have 4 hands rather than 2, but he did most of it.
I’ve discovered that an unforeseen perk of camping for me is getting princess treatment. I love to get princess treatment – I really think this is not a female thing, I think all people love to get princess treatment from time to time. Being a novice in a situation is a great way to get princess treatment and I don’t know how long this will last if we keep camping, but I intend on forever.
Knowing it may rain, we set up a second tent so we’d have somewhere a bit more spacious to hang out and play cards, etc. if we couldn’t just post up at the picnic table. After we set up camp, we went and checked out the bathhouses and the rest of the property, and then took the car into town to grab dinner, and a few more snacks at the grocery store.
Both times we’ve camped now we opted to either bring prepared food or plan to dine out. Part of this is because of the fire bans that have been ongoing, but Kendall has a propane burner (allowed) and we *could* have done some basic meal prep had we so chosen. We did use his burner to boil water for coffee in the morning (and also a half-ass attempt at s’mores). I am uninterested in freeze-dried food and the like and there’s really no need to do that when you’re not backpacking. But also, these being my first real forays into camping, and me being pretty intense about food in general, I think we both just thought it would be best to make that a non-factor for now. In future I would like to explore more camp cooking, but it will likely look more like prepping meals at home to be heated up over a campfire or burner. In general, I’m interested in taking less, not more, gear along and bringing prepared foods or dining out seems to help a lot with that. When we went to Cottonwood, we got deli sandwiches on the way in that afternoon and ate them that evening. At Trinidad, we just went out to eat both nights – pizza the first night, Mexican food the second. (It also, was, vacation after all).
We got back to our campsite the first night and it had started raining, but not too hard. We sat in our ‘living room’ tent and played a couple games of Skip-Bo before crawling into bed sometime after 11. Kendall, as usual, fell right to sleep. This time, I had thought to bring (and charge) my headphones, so I fell asleep listening to my audiobook. A couple hours later I woke up to much harder rain. The sound was lovely and, so far, I wasn’t getting wet. I drifted in and out of sleep over the next few hours – fat rain drops plopping down pleasantly overhead. It was, once again, magical.
Sometime around 6am, I was awoken more rudely by the tiniest splish splashes through the rain fly. It had been raining so persistently for so long that the water was finally making the tiniest dent through the tent. This was still miles away from that first rainy “camping” experience. It was dry underneath & around us, no puddles, no soaked clothes. Just the occasional drop eking it’s way through. Still, as the morning wore on and the sun started to rise, these miniscule drops nonetheless started to feel like some sort of very mild torture. It was the unpredictability of it, there’d be nothing for 10 minutes then all of a sudden a raindrop in your eye or the feeling that someone with a lisp said ‘sassafras’ a little too close to your face. Kendall started to stir. We both had to pee. It was a bit before 8am and time to start the day.
One thing camping will do is get you up early. The sun rises and there’s no blackout curtain; the forest wakes up around you, but if you’re at a camping resort like we were, the resort itself also wakes up. When we got up that morning, it was pouring. We made a run for the bathrooms, got ready to start the day, then zoomed out of there. One thing I was not sure about re: camping was the activities that go alongside it. As was well covered above, I like to hike now. But the idea of hiking and then not showering and then sleeping in close proximity to my husband who had also hiked and not showered was…not appealing to me.
When we went to Cottonwood, we arrived later in the afternoon and didn’t have time to get a hike in before the sunset. We ended up hiking the next morning before leaving. It was a pretty warm day and when we got to the river, I nearly jumped in – not just to cool down, but just the thought of rinsing off right then was tempting. Because Cottonwood was just one night, we opted not to shower that evening or the next morning, even though there were facilities available. So I was already gross when we started hiking and then got grosser, and then we still had to drive home. We both made use of some body wipes so as to feel slightly fresher for the ride home (and that became Item No. 1 for me to get my own for next time).
At Trinidad, the showers were coin-op. I had enough cash to buy us each 1 short-ish shower, and there was some discussion about when we were each going to use that. I initially had planned to wait to shower until we were leaving the next day, so I would be fresh for the 4 hour road trip to our next location and whatever we decided to do along the way. But I didn’t know if I could make it through a planned day of hiking and exploring to dinner out and sleeping in a tent again without another shower. The rain kept our explorations indoors for the first hour or two of the day – to a coffee shop for some breakfast, to a gift store nearby, running an errand to find more batteries for one of our lanterns – but then it let up enough for us to get outside. We spent the day exploring the redwoods and the coastline.
We then returned to camp with plans to go seek out dinner and maybe a brewery. At this point Kendall declared his own intention to shower and so I did the same. It was absolutely the right choice. We were fresh and clean for dinner & beers & bed. Although the tent itself was still a bit wet from the previous day, it didn’t rain again that night and we slept comfortably, though I actually missed the sound of the rainfall. The next morning, we made coffee and ate some store-bought pastries, then Kendall packed us up and we got on our way to continue the rest of our roadtrip.
Reflections on Camping
From the night at Cottonwood, I learned more about what to bring, what I still needed to purchase (mostly just base layers). From our time camping at Trinidad, we figured out a bit more about how we want to set up camp in future, and I learned that camping in the rain can be fun, so long as you don’t get soaked. We talked a lot about what we want to try in future, and I’ll pack my bag a little different next time, too (and probably the time after that, and the time after that, until I get it down).
Overall, I’ve learned that there are no rules, or rather that camping can be whatever you want it to be. I always thought it *had* to be really stripped down and basic, that you had to “rough it” for it to “count”. While I understand the sort of debate that people can have about whether or not glamping is camping and what lines you cross when you incorporate water or electrical hook-ups, for example, I’m also not really interested in that conversation. I think you should do whatever makes you comfortable out there, so long as it doesn’t disturb or disrupt other campers, or take away from the intention & experience of being out in nature.
There are choices we’ve made camping so far that others wouldn’t; there are things I’ve decided are dealbreakers for me that wouldn’t be for others. There are ways I’m going to camp, and ways I’m not. I no longer feel the need to prove anything, I just want to find ways to get out there and not to torture myself while doing so.
Which is funny because that’s sort of where I’ve landed with hiking after all these years, too – I no longer feel the need to prove anything, I just want to find ways to get out there and not to torture myself while doing so.
Near the end of our road trip, on one of our last days near Shasta, Kendall and I did a 3-ish mile hike with some elevation gain. I had to take more breaks than I maybe would’ve liked. During one of these breaks, I said something about this to Kendall – how I was out of shape and hadn’t been hiking enough this past year – and he said “yeah, but you’re mentally tougher than you used to be, which makes a big difference”.
Progress isn’t always linear, but this was also a good reminder that the mental toughness you gain doesn’t really go away the same way your lung capacity or leg strength can. Hiking, and now camping, both make me feel more capable. And that’s still true, even if I bring a sub sandwich along, or have to camp near a bathroom, or need a shower after a day and a half, or take a lot of breaks while hiking.
Emi Makes Stuff 