I’ve been getting advertisements from a bunch of glamping companies. I don’t have any idea how they got my name for their mailing lists. I am far from their target audience. For one thing, I don’t need to be coddled and pampered on a camping trip, and probably more importantly, I don’t have any extra money to be throwing away.
Most of these outfits charge more for a week in the woods than I spend on a month for my mortgage. If I had that kind of cash, I wouldn’t pay somebody to cook for me and help me bait my fishing rod. I’d use that extra money to buy a better tent or a more comfortable sleeping bag. Maybe a lighter backpack to get all my camping gear up into the hills a little easier.
Because I certainly don’t want to spend a camping trip surrounded by a bunch of strangers, either. When I go camping, I like to look at a bunch of topo maps, figure out where on those maps I’m most likely to find a chunk of Wyoming that’s the farthest point from any road, and I hike there. When I get there, the only other people I’ll see are the ones who came in with me. We cook our own food, pitch our own tents, and enjoy each other’s company over the campfire we cut the firewood for.
During the days, if we’re lucky, we catch a few fish. We don’t need steamed asparagus and lobster bisque for dinner – we just tent those trout on a frying pan over the campfire. We don’t need four-poster beds in an eight-room tent – the Therm-A-Rest or a few horse pads, if we rode horses in, are comfortable enough.
I’m glad there are glamping outfits out there for folks who like that sort of thing. But I’d rather camp a little closer to nature.
