If you read the About page, you’ll know that I’m not terribly good at packing for camping excursions. I kind of just do granola bars and crackers and call it a day, thinking it’ll be fine. And it never is. Wherever I go, whether it’s hiking or on a short trip or whatever, I never bring enough food. I always end up having to stop somewhere and get more nourishment to feed my apparently insatiable appetite. Maybe I just need to get on board with some foods that I normally would not imagine eating. Then again, maybe I just need to take wedding limo Kitchener wherever I go, which I can only imagine is stocked with all kinds of food.

The most intense camping trip I’ve ever been on involved hiking about nine hours up the west coast of England with two friends, carrying everything on our backs, and then camping at a camp ground at a place called Robin Hood’s Bay. I know this isn’t particularly intense for most of you. I know a dear friend of mine has gone on five-day-long canoe trips and whatnot. But this is the longest camping journey I’ve been on. So, anyway, this trip saw me woefully under-prepared, food-wise. We’ve established that. I wasn’t starving, by any means, but I wasn’t full, either. I learned a lot about proper camping food on this trip, though. And I learned that I don’t want any part of it.

I went on the trip with two guys, one of whom had done this whole camping thing numerous times before, one who had not. Dab, the experienced camper, had a water-proof tent and a tarp, all the proper gear, a little grill thing. The whole nine yards. How he carried it all on his back for so long, I don’t know. But anyway. One of the many moments at which I have decided that camping is not for me was when I saw Dan bring out a plastic bag of rice, and pour boiling water into the plastic bag, and that … that was a camping food. And he ate it out of the bag, with a spoon. And I just … I don’t want that. Fine, maybe this makes me a bit high maintenance, but why on earth would I choose to eat rice out of a bag when I could have paid, what, twenty quid more, and eaten it off of a plate, in an inn, where I could have had a warm bed for the night? Why?

I’ve had other camping excursions during which we’ve had crackers and jam and other such spreadable delights, but then you’ve got the spreading knife you’ve got to wash, and there are crumbs and bits of stickiness everywhere, and chances are you haven’t got anywhere to sit, so you’re outside on the ground, and if it’s rained then you have to be inside the tent eating, and then all the crumbs and shit get in your sleeping bag and just no. I just do not see the benefit. I get why people like going to camp grounds with their big grills and their coolers and all that equipment, sure, but that’s a huge investment! And I would just rather spend that kind of money on a cottage, where there is a stove and a sink. Sorrynotsorry.

For those of you determined to continue to go camping, I guess some of these idea are good … I guess.