I went camping for the first time in my adult life on a trip to Half Dome, a giant granite rock in Yosemite, California. I learned a lot. Perhaps the most important lesson learned on that trip was to always carry at least one extra chap stick. Why? Because when a person hikes eighteen miles in a single day, it’s not just your lips that can get chapped. In the words of Christopher’s dad Jim, “When my butthole’s happy, I’m happy.”

My family and I camped at Joshua Tree, California, this last week (photos here), and while there was no monster hike on this trip, there was a major lesson to be learned: showers are crazily important.

I think it’s safe to say I will not be going camping again until I have in my possession a camping shower. You may smell as rank and foul as you want when you go camping, but I generally camp with my wife, and I cannot expect her to be nice to me if I am nasty to her. Yeah: go right ahead and tell me real campers don’t shower.

gear

Over the last couple years, I’ve learned a lot about clothes for sports. Regarding camping, I’ve decided a couple things. First, wicking clothes are huge, at least for me, in a camping situation. I can get away with two sets. Wear one set of clothes, wash the other and let it dry all day while I’m hiking and not reading the Internet. What’s rad about this is that you can pack less clothes, and the clothes I do pack take less space than normal cotton clothes.

Also, I cannot overstate the importance of compression shorts. They’re made out of that athletic material, don’t ride up your butt crack, and really help with the whole, “if my butthole’s happy, I’m happy,” thing.

We were unprepared for how bloody cold it was on the night of our arrival. Lesson learned? No matter what time of year, always have long underwear, a beanie, gloves, and wool socks. I think a set of space blanket sleeping bags might have been especially good that first night. It really was that cold.

The other big thing we got for this trip was a five-gallon water cooler. That was enormously helpful in keeping us alive. Oh, and CamelBaks for hiking, that’s key. For some reason, people just don’t bring enough water. We did a six-mile hike up to the old gold mine and saw people hiking back on the unshaded trail with the sun beating down carrying not a drop of water with them. Not having enough water, even if it doesn’t kill you, will make you far more tired than you’d otherwise be on a hike or ride, and takes a ton of fun out of the event. Bring enough water, everyone. A CamelBak is nice. ¹  They hold a lot of water, plus have room for some food and a lightweight jacket (because you will be out longer than you think, and it will get cold) and your camera and a map and a notebook and some pens and your keys and and and…

tents vs campers and rvs

We camp in a tent. We use coolers to store food, and a propane stove to cook food on. And we mock the bejesus out of people who camp in RVs. After all, if you wanted all the niceties of home, you should probably just stay at home. Or hotel it. That said, we were able to come up with at least one really good reason for an RV: active camping trips. That is, you’re headed out to wherever for the purpose of mountain bike riding, for instance. You wake up, eat, get dressed, and spend the rest of the day pounding down trails on your mountain bikes. You get back to camp after dark. Who wants to cook in the dark and do dishes kneeling in the dirt after a day like that? Nobody. Plus, a nice plush bed inside four solid walls would be pretty nice after fourteen hours of hard mountain biking. ² 

Anyone else is a wimp. Or old.

Our campsite neighbors were both. They had both a tent-trailer and a few tents and a corral for their dogs and signs that said, “campers have smore fun,” and more crap strung around their site and inside their tent-trailer than I’ve got in my entire storage shed. Pardon me while I pass judgment. I’m very critical.

good neighbors: how to not be ‘that guy’

The biggest thing people forget when camping is that there are no doors or walls, and sound does not stay inside your campsite. It travels across the whole campground. Which means if you bring your dog, you’d better be prepared for outright hostility when it decides to bark it’s stupid head off at 5:30am.

Also, we didn’t drive eight hours to listen to your radio. Turn it off. If you want war, somebody’s always got worse music (I’ve got Slayer, Motörhead, and Cradle of Filth; wanna fight?), and everybody loses. Use headphones.

Lastly, limit your use of your generator. That’s not camping, anyway.

and so

Camping’s great! My whole family likes it. The expensive part is acquiring all the gear; each trip costs less than the last trip because we have to buy less equipment. You’re invited to go next time. I’ll send you an email, ok?

1. I own a M.U.L.E., the girl has a Mini M.U.L.E., and we borrowed my sister-in-law’s L.U.X.E. (the girl M.U.L.E.) for my wife. ↩ 
2. Eff blow-up mattresses, by the way. We used a Swiss Gear air mattress this last time; the motor that blows it up is inside the bed, and it didn’t leak at all that we could tell. Still, every time I rolled over, I’m sure my wife felt it (I sure felt her), and a giant uninsulated bubble of air below you does very little to keep the warm in. ↩