Amidst the rat race of civilized life with fast-paced jobs, endless responsibilities and daily life surprises, the call of the wild lures us like the sirens in Homer’s Odyssey.

To shake free, retreat to the woods, unwind beside a crackling campfire and draw in sweet breaths of cool air as your worries and to-do lists melt away – it sounds heavenly. Camping is fantastic – well, the romanticized, fantasy version of it is, the version where everything goes according to plan. But reality is a prankster, a cruel one at times, so of course, there is that other side of camping, the one that deepens your appreciation for all the amenities you just shed. It’s a true double-edged sword.

I grew up loving camping. I spent a ton of time outside as a kid and nothing thrilled me more than pitching a tent and sleeping outside. It felt strangely rebellious – “Hey, aren’t we supposed to sleep inside?” – and adventurous, even if it was out in the back yard. Campfires? – they were the greatest, especially when you torched marshmallows or hot dogs or slapped together a gooey, sugar-loaded smore! 

In my teen and young adult years, I discovered the pleasures of late-night gatherings around the fire, beverage in hand, swapping jokes and stories that may or may not be in proper taste or factually accurate. And rising early to enjoy the first crackles of campfire cutting through the morning stillness, coffee in hand, creates a sense of calm that rivals most pharmaceuticals. Speaking of coffee, has it tasted any better than it does in front of a morning campfire?

But something else happened as I aged. Many of the realities of camping that I blissfully missed as a kid revealed themselves. Remember the morning fire I was talking about? – have you ever tried to START one of those things? When the wood is wet from the morning dew or heaven forbid an overnight rainfall? When you can’t find dry paper or cardboard? When you realize you misplaced the matches? I have fought more morning fire pits than I care to admit, watching again and again as promising orange flames dance before withering to smoke. My kids, if they were awake to hear me, probably added some four-letter words to their vocabulary on some of those mornings.

I have also discovered that the difficulty of erecting a tent is directly proportional to your desire to go to sleep. I have put them up in the dark, in the wind and during a sudden rain. And speaking of weather, it seems the camping gods are now hitting me with all the crazy weather I managed to miss during childhood campouts. Nothing hits harder, I have learned, than a late-night thunderstorm when all that separates you from the elements is a fabric tent. Let me tell you, when lightning strikes close enough to a campsite, it sounds like a megaton bomb, and nothing is more terrifying than sprinting through a storm to seek shelter in the ol’ family rig.

Of course, not all camping experiences happen after dark. Much of our great outdoors experiences, the stuff of which memories are made, happen when the glorious sun beams pass through cotton-white clouds and through sweet-scented pine branches. Yep, that’s when the bugs come out to play, when the mosquitos search your skin for a snack, when the flies dive-bomb your lunch, when the bees buzz past, laughing as you flinch to avoid their stingers.

How things have changed. I used to frolic in the woods all day, not a care in the world about the bugs and wild animals. I used to roll out a sleeping back under the stars – totally exposed to whatever Mother Nature had planned. I didn’t care if the campsite only had a pit toilet, or no toilet at all, and showers? – that could wait until I got home.

But now, I’m wimpy. I look with envy at campers with massive, shiny fifth-wheels, furnished with bathrooms and showers, recliners, kitchens and flat screen TVs. I used to question if that was truly camping, but the older I get, the more willing I am to broaden my definition. Heck, if they could plop a four-star hotel suite next to a campfire and a few evergreens, I’d be willing to try out the new “campsite.”

In closing, I’ll leave you with this movie quote, delivered by Roman Craig’s character in the 1980s movie, “The Great Outdoors,” as he questioned his brother-in-law’s decision to go camping:

“So anyway, you’re an intelligent man, make a good living and have a good life. Answer me one question: Why the hell would you want to come up to a plant-infested no man’s land like this and live like a barbarian for a week?”

Touche, Roman … touché.