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My boyfriend comes from a family that does annual camping trips. It’s a symptom of being from the West Coast, I’ve learned.
I, on the other hand, do not. We opted for beach vacations to escape New York winters or capitalize on the few months of warmth rather than roughing it in the woods. I’m not mad about it.
However, relationships require compromise. I’ve been dying to go to Maine, Acadia National Park in particular, so I agreed to a moderate camping trip that could ease me into the experience in a place I was excited to see.
Easing in meant that we would have some amenities, like a campsite with a bathroom and sturdy tent setup, and that we would come prepared with lots of supplies. I will say that I’m not completely averse to outdoor adventures — I chose to do a guided 10-day hiking trip in Peru a few years back — I just generally prefer to shower at the end of the day and sleep in a real bed. Sue me.
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