“A man practices the art of adventure when he breaks the chain of routine and renews his life through reading new books, traveling to new places, making new friends, taking up new hobbies and adopting new viewpoints.” - Wilfred Peterson
As a child, I used to get dragged camping with the family. I think I used to enjoy it; we used to be allowed to run around the campsite all day and go to bed when it was really late, much later than when at home. (Now, being an adult, I appreciate that was probably only about 10pm as when you’re sat outside in the dark, it feels later.)
Then when I was too cool for school in my teens I definitely did not enjoy camping, it was BORING, nobody cool went camping and as mobile phones were exclusively for the 80s yuppies, I didn’t have anyway of contacting my friends.
But camping had a resurgence in my early 20s - because it was cheap! When none of us could really afford to go on holiday and wanted a break, we’d go camping; you could bring your own food and drinks which meant that we could also afford to be drunk around the campfire, making it even more enjoyable.
Now I go because I see why my parents took me when I was younger. It’s magical being outside, It gives you a chance to breathe, it tests your brain and your problem-solving skills, it gives you a chance to eat marshmallows (as really, when else do people actually eat them?), all in beautiful countryside, surrounded by positive, optimistic people and still, the ability to bring your own drinks - what more could you ask for?!