Camping fail – by Pattie Pegler
by Metropol | December 17, 2025 8:35 am
I want to like camping. It sounds so fun and carefree, pitching your tent, enjoying the great outdoors. But I am a camping failure.
Admittedly, I was a late starter, I grew up mostly in cities where camping options were thin on the ground. But when I was 23, on a trip to visit my sister and her husband in Canada, they suggested camping. They had a couple of small tents and we found a campsite in the mountains. It was all very cool and green and beautiful. Beside our camp was the soothing whisper of running water from the river.
Then darkness fell. At which point I found myself lying rigid, eyes wide open with just a small, dome tent between me and the wild world outside. Canada is bear country, you see warning signs everywhere. Our proximity to the river suddenly seemed like a terrible mistake. It would surely be a drinking spot for thirsty bears. Every rustle, every screech, every crackle had me torn between running for the car or lying still in the hope that a giant grizzly wouldn’t detect me. It was the longest night of my life.
But 20 years later I touched down in New Zealand where camping seems to be a way of life. Everyone has glorious camping stories. The beauty of the natural world, the camaraderie of the camp fire, the fresh air, the fun. It all just sounded great.
So we started to get camping ready. First we bought an enormous tent. Its two cavernous rooms would give us ample space. It weighed the equivalent of a small house in its carry bag but it wasn’t until we did a trial run of putting it up in the garden that we realised it wasn’t as fun as it looked.
We battled with cryptically numbered poles that looked nothing like those in the minimalist instruction leaflet. Number 8 poles might end in a 90-degree angle, whilst number 7 would end in an 80 degree angle. Number 9 poles were 100cm long, but Number 6 poles were 102cm long. These minute differences seemed impossible to detect with the naked eye but were crucial to the final result.
The oversized canvas billowed and rippled in all the wrong directions and by the time it was up, a frosty silence hung in the air. No doubt about it, this tent was not going to be fun.
So it was assigned to the garage in its carry bag. Then put on Trade Me. We replaced it with something more manageable and a little smaller. Of course, a tent is just the beginning. We needed more stuff.
My husband dug out some fold up chairs, a little gas stove and sleeping bags retained from his camping youth. We bought plastic plates and cups and a small frying pan. We got a disc shaped, LED light to hang in the tent and a foam mattress to sleep on. Slowly a corner of the garage started to fill up with all our equipment. Like some dusty outpost of a Kathmandu store.
There seemed to be an awful lot of preparation needed. I looked online for some camping tips and found a checklist that included about 450 separate items. Then another article that advised ‘Plan ahead, arrive at the campsite early, make a checklist of what you need to take’. It sounded about as relaxing as a military expedition.
Finally, with what seemed like the entire contents of our house replicated in lightweight or miniature versions, we were ready. I packed up an ice box with provisions, squeezed the dogs’ bowls into the last remaining sliver of space in the car and we set off for a camp site at Rakaia Gorge.
The camp site was tucked up on a hill and with beautiful wide views over the river. Before we could enjoy them we had to unload everything; set up the tent, put down the mattress, the sleeping bags, set up the camp stove, the kitchen equipment, hang up the little camping LED light in the tent. Put the dogs’ water bowl outside and unfold our camping chairs. It was less a relaxing outdoor experience and more akin to moving house.
We spent the afternoon exploring. We walked along the river, clambered up the hillside behind the camp, crossed the bridge and gasped at the gorge. The scenery was fantastic. No doubt about it.
Come dinner time we had to prepare food, cook and wash up just as normal. Except we ate with plastic plates balanced precariously on our knees. Afterwards, in the kitchen block, I realised that despite having brought the entire contents of the house, we’d forgotten washing up liquid.
We live in a beautiful part of the world. I love nature and the outdoors. I just love it more when I get to the end of the day and sink into a comfortable bed far from the sounds of tent zips.
Source URL: https://metropol.co.nz/camping-fail-by-pattie-pegler/