I've always enjoyed camping. Mostly. I think. OK, not quite as much anymore.
Since I was a wee lad, there's hardly been a summer that hasn't involved at least one camping trip.
The sweet spot was definitely when we were kids. Those were the days.
Your job was essentially a simple one - have endless fun.
Sure you might have to chop a little kindling, pump up an air mattress and roll up a couple of sleeping bags, but that was a small price to pay.
Wake up early to the smell of bacon and eggs (after carefully hiding all the good cereals out of the timeless variety pack from your sister). Then spend all day swimming, riding bikes, fishing, climbing trees, combing beaches, hiking trails, inventing games with other kids you just met and then having barbecue burgers, telling ghost stories and toasting marshmallows.
Even if it rained, the sound of the drops hitting the outside of the tent were still somehow comforting and your invisible ink quiz books kept you busy until the weather improved.
There was also the at-home specials where you and a few buddies 'camped' in your backyard, giddily sneaking out at 3 a.m. to play Nicky Nicky Nine Doors or watch shooting stars.
That perfect love affair probably started to fade a little when we got our first tent trailer. The comfort bar was raised. Once we piled into an RV and drove across country (with handheld video games now a thing), the bloom was off the rose a little.
In my teens, camping usually meant we were at baseball tournaments, so tomfoolery was a little muted and swimming wasn't seen as the best activity.
Once my 20s arrived, the endless fun activities were often replaced with sleeping off hangovers in the cheap two-person tents that somehow ended up with eight people inside.
The magic returned once our son was born and the process essentially began all over again. Starting in a tent, watching him and his friends enjoy all the things we did as youngsters ourselves. Once the first fifth-wheel arrived on the scene, however, there was simply no going back.
There could never be another way. No tents allowed. TVs, fridges, actual beds, no outhouses... now that was camping. The older and softer I got, it was glamping or nothing. Even better? The pop-in. Visit others who were camping; enjoy the food and conversation, then dip out before the gates closed to retreat to the comfort of your own bed. No regrets.
No matter what iteration, the best part remained the same - the people and the memories. I can drive past any of a dozen campgrounds on the Island and it instantly sparks a new reminder of fun times past.
Any time I see an RV of a certain vintage, I'm instantly sitting in the middle of a field in Saskatchewan, where I petulantly ran after my Dad told me he was going to let me out if I didn't stop teasing my sister (I didn't, he did). Easily one of my dumbest moments, but now a "I can't believe you did that" conversation every summer.
So, I guess I do prefer 300-thread count and room service when it comes to vacations, but camping will always be a source for some wistful summer nostalgia.
* Do you enjoy camping? What's the best part for you? The worst? Favourite spots? Feel free to share some of your own memories.
PQB News/Vancouver Island Free Daily editor Philip Wolf welcomes your questions, comments and story ideas. He can be reached at 250-905-0029 or philip.wolf@blackpress.ca.
