Don't Wait

This is one of those pieces of advice I give all the time, but rarely follow. And yet, I just got back from a short sojourn that only happened because I decided not to wait.

I have been thinking how much I miss camping, and how I used to go all the time, and how I have a bunch of excellent (if somewhat dated) gear. This is not a new thought process. It’s literally been happening for years.

Each summer, I’d manage to fit in a short weekend trip, and then put all the gear back in the closet saying “I’ll go again soon,” knowing deep down that soon usually meant next year.

I was in a mood to change things earlier this spring. I went online, and just started booking campsites. A long weekend in May, another extended weekend in July, two weekends in August. And an overnight in June.

The multi-night trips are ones I enjoy, and this year I’ve opted to go places I’ve never been, with one weekend being a bike trip. There will be lakes and rivers to swim in, trees to hammock under, books to read and ideally little to no internet.

But the June overnight was special in an important way. It was a Wednesday night. I took no time off work. Monday and Tuesday were so busy that I knew I had to plan ahead by packing the gear on the weekend. The end of Wednesday’s workday hit, and I threw the bag in the car. Grabbed my dog. Drove.

We went to a Provincial Park that is entirely front country. There were RVs and trailers on some sites, but most sites were empty (it was a school night, and school hadn’t stopped for summer yet and who goes camping on a weeknight anyway). I didn’t even bring food. Just got my favourite greasy drive through burger on the way down. I did bring a stove to make my morning caffeine, and then drove back home in time for breakfast.

It helps that I get to work from home two days a week. That meant being able to skip time lost to commutes. But even if I did have to commute, I could still have done it.

My dog loved it. He’s getting old, and isn’t as mobile as he used to be, but new places covered in greenery and interesting smells reinvigorate him. After an hour of walking around the campground and getting eaten by ALL of the bugs, we retreated inside the tent, watching frustrated mosquitos try over and over to get through the mesh.

I didn’t sleep much. I was too busy listening to bullfrogs croak and wind blow through the trees and the gentle sound of the river lapping against the shore. Probably finally dozed off around midnight, and woke up as it got light.

You know what? I came home feeling rested. After eating breakfast, I wrote something in my journal I hope I can hang on to long into the future.

“I’d rather have the memories of an imperfect trip, than be dreaming of the perfect trip.”

I have for too long looked at my camping gear and said, you know, a new mattress would be nice. A new stove would be lighter. Do I stick with a headlamp, or buy a little LED lantern? I can’t go during a work week anyway. It’s not backcountry, not “real” camping. What’s the ideal meal plan? Should I bring some gear to be a bit more comfortable or travel light? 

But you know what? Instead of trying to make the perfect plan, I just went. I slept in a tent, fired up a backpacking stove to boil water, watched the sunset and the sunrise, and am all the better for it.

Don’t wait.