Exploring Outdoors Can Be As Luxurious As You Make It

“Wilderness is the region between the doorman and the taxicab.” Annie Lebovitz

I doubt many people reading this have as limited a view of the great outdoors as Annie. Yet I’m always surprised at the limited notions some people within our community adopt as to the proper way to spend the night there. I know motorcyclists who toss a sleeping bag on the ground (with a plastic sheet handy in case it rains), who cook stew, drink coffee, and wash out of the same MSR Titan pot, and think anyone who complicates things beyond that is a slave to pretension. On the other hand, we had an attendee at an early Overland Expo who complained because the windy conditions had deposited a layer of dust on the granite countertop of his $250,000 Earthroamer.

I make no excuses for making my camps as comfortable as possible given my mode of transportation at the time. Fortunately I’ve always found that my idea of “comfort” is completely malleable, changing to suit my situation. Perhaps it’s because, on any particular night, my setup can range anywhere between the two extremes mentioned above (albeit somewhat short of the granite countertop) that I’ve learned not to denigrate my fellow travelers’ idea of the perfect camp—as long as they’re out there doing it and not making fun of anyone else’s idea of the perfect camp.

Complete Sea Kayak Touring – A float plane is one of the best ways to reach remote sea kayak touring destinations.

I started backpacking when I was eight or nine, lugging a surplus military canvas rucksack, a giant Save-Co sleeping bag that must have weighed ten pounds, and canned food. The only thing lightweight about that setup was the ghastly $2.99 plastic tube tent made from material more appropriate for wrapping leftovers. Yet when my friend Bruce and I would rest our wobbly knees at the end of the day, light a fire under the stars, and scorch some beans in a GI mess tin, we couldn’t have been more pleased with our lot. Imagine the feeling when I saved up a few years later and bought an aluminum-framed Camp Trails backpack, a down sleeping bag, and freeze-dried meals. I thought I’d hit the height of luxury. Wow—my pack weighs less than I do!

Years later I took up sea kayaking, and began undertaking extended voyages along coastlines (and sometimes off them) ranging from the Sea of Cortez to the Arctic. The expedition-worthy craft I paddled easily accommodated 150 pounds of equipment. Compared to backpacking, it felt like I could load gear with a shovel. Collapsible aluminum chair? Sure. Stove-top oven to bake brownies? Why not? Hmm . . . espresso would be nice. Where’s that mocha pot? The best part was, the more you load a sea kayak, the more stable it is, so there was an actual tactical reason to bring more stuff.

Of course, camping out of an FJ40 Land Cruiser raised the bar for style even more. A dome tent I could almost stand up in, a cot that kept me off the ground, a fridge . . . surely this was the height of luxury. Well . . . except for the Tacoma and Four Wheel Camper in which Roseann and I do a lot of our traveling now, which has a bed larger than the one at home, a dinette, a hot-water shower, and an awning and outside table so we don’t feel isolated from our surroundings while dinner simmers on the stove. Despite retaining serious backcounty capability, the JATAC (for “Just a Tacoma and Camper”) can literally function as a home away from home for weeks at a time.

Camping in a Four Wheel Pop-up Camper on a Toyota Tacoma

But here’s the thing: I’m still perfectly happy to load the Engel and cot into the FJ40, or pack the Hilleberg and MSR stove on a motorcycle, head out on a different kind of adventure, and enjoy a different kind of comfort. In fact, I recently finished building up a Thorn Nomad—a British-built, fillet-brazed expedition bicycle—and have added a set of Ortlieb panniers. I have a couple of self-powered journeys in mind, and I know that, at the end of a 50 or 75-mile day, when I crawl into my three-pound Stephenson tent and stretch out on my 3/4-inch thick Thermarest, it’s going to feel like the height of luxury.

  • Editor’s Note: This column was previously published in Issue 3 of OutdoorX4 Magazine.

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