I still miss tent camping in spite of some memorable disasters.
Newly married with not much money, I scraped up enough money to buy all the equipment I could afford—two cheap sleeping bags, a Coleman stove, a Coleman heater, a Coleman lantern, a cooler, and a tent. Headed to a campground for Memorial Day Weekend, and promptly broke my fan belt and overheated. Managed to get to a pay phone and got my brother in law to tow me about thirty miles where I got it replaced. Back on the road about 1:00. Got to the campground in a downpour with lightning and thunder. Temperatures dropped into the forties and we shivered all night sleeping on a cold tent floor since we had no air mattresses.
Another time we got to a National Forest campground up on the Gunflint after dark, found a nice level spot, got to sleep after midnight, and woke up to find I had pitched the tent in the middle of the road.
Spent a weekend at Gooseberry and it poured all night with high winds blowing rain right through the zipper into the tent. We decided to pull the pin because the rain was not letting up, so my wife and kids sat in the car while I broke camp. We got lucky though, because when we left the park we debated whether to go further up the shore or head back home. We decided to call it done and head home. Shortly after that, a bridge just up the shore was shut down because of damage from the storm, and people on the other side of it were stranded.
On our honeymoon, the second time around, we reserved a cabin in Porcupine Mountains State Park in the UP. Had to pack in a few miles carrying much more than we needed. The hip belt on my backpack had a broken buckle, and I thought my back would go out crossing creeks on downed logs and climbing up and down hills. When we got to the cabin smoke was coming out of the chimney and I was ready for some kind of confrontation with whoever was in my cabin. Turns out it was a couple who were tent camping. The woman had cut her hand on a can lid, so they hoisted there food into a tree, and hiked out to get her stitched up. When they returned they found their food dragged down from the tree and what was left of it scattered. They apologized and moved down the way and pitched their tent. The good thing was I got spectacular pictures of fall peak foliage with Lake Superior in the background.
Another time I drove into a provincial park campground in Ontario on a beautiful afternoon and saw lots of tents and campers, but no sign of a human being anywhere. We selected a site and I began to pitch the tent. No humans to be found but clouds of black flys. By the time I got set up, I had a two inch wide band of welts around each leg just above the top of my socks. The next day they were swollen and painful.
I had some good times tent camping, too, but I’m glad my wife always rolls her eyes when I suggest breaking out the tent and going on a trip.