(Photo from 'Katie@!' via Flickr)
In all my 23 years of life, ‘camping’ has never been a word in my vocabulary. And I never really understood why people were so into it—I mean, I liked being outdoors as much as the next person, but there is a big difference between being outside and sleeping outside.
But something in the great outdoors was calling me and for some reason I just couldn’t let this pass me by. Okay, let’s be honest—I just didn’t have anything better to do.
I wasn’t quite sure why, but I was overly excited about the weekend in front of me. New adventures, the great outdoors and good friends—what could be better?
I made a trip to Wal-mart for all the necessities and after consulting with a few veteran campers, packed my bags.
But when I woke up the next morning, panic set in. What was I thinking? I couldn’t go camping! There were so many things I hadn’t thought of until now and were taking over my mind. Who was I kidding?—this was a bad idea.
If you know me at all, you know I am more than a little bit girly. Sure, I don’t mind getting dirty, but I do recognize the value of running water and a flushing toilet. I thought back to my family and friends’ reactions the day before when I had announced to the world that yes, this girl was going camping. Their stunned responses ran circles through my mind.
“You?! Camping?! I never thought I would hear those two things in the same sentence!” and, “You know there are bugs out there, right?” were among the two that stuck out the most.
But there were some who had faith in my ability to survive in the wild. And, according to some professional campers, I wasn’t really camping since we were going to be sleeping in an RV.
After a quick pep talk and watching two coolers full of alcoholic beverages being loaded into the RV, I was back on track and ready to hit the road.
The RV we were borrowing (not hijacking as some may claim) for our trip actually belonged to the organization I worked for. But it wasn’t your typical RV—not only was it bright blue and 30 feet long, it was covered with giant pictures, making it stick out like a sore thumb. Needless to say the ride up was marked by honking horns, head turning stares and the occasional dirty look.
I was quite fond of the camp site we had selected partly because it was right on the lake, but mostly because I saw a brick building 50 yards away with what looked like bathrooms. 
I couldn’t wait to get out and explore, but as it tends to, nature called and I headed towards the brick building in the distance to what I thought held the gift of the weekend—flushing toilets and running water.
I sat down and suddenly realized I had made a big mistake. I felt a cool breeze (not the kind that feels good, I might add) shoot a draft between my legs. What the hell was that?! I jumped up and looked down to make sure no one was down there blowing up my skirt.
I was later informed that I was using something called a latrine. If you aren’t familiar with a latrine, it’s esentially a hole in the ground with a raised seat. People may try to trick you into thinking it is a real bathroom, but don’t be fooled—it is nothing more than a stationary port-a-john with frequent wind gusts.
I spent the rest of the weekend peeing in the bushes as much as possible, which I was surprisingly okay with. In fact, I thought it was pretty cool.
The weekend primarily consisted of eating, drinking and fishing, which I was perfectly fine with. We lounged around, took in all the amenities of Mother Nature, and for the first time in a long time I had this strange but comforting sense of tranquility—it must have been something in the air.
It didn’t bother me that I hadn’t showered in two days (apparently swimming counts as showering when you are camping) and I didn’t even realize I was covered in dirt. It was awesome.
We cooked over the fire, gazed at the stars and I even watched a fish being gutted and still ate him (we named him Pete if you were wondering). And even though I got a million bug bites and thought I had West Nile for a week, it was the best weekend I have had in a long time.
My friends, who also experienced my first camping trip, had their doubts about me at first but by the end of the weekend I was told I was “the right guy away from a six-day backpacking trip through Yellowstone.”
I’m not so sure I would go that far, but I am not ruling it out quite yet. I do think my camping trips will progress in phases, however. Phase one (which I have already conquered) consisted of RV or cabin camping; phase two, tent camping; and phase three, sleeping outside with no amenities beyond what you found in the great outdoors.
I have to say, I definitely surprised myself. Who knows—maybe I’m more outdoorsy than I thought.
