SIDETRACKED GUIDES: WILD CAMPING (PART ONE) | Sidetracked
My first night camping wild was a disaster. I was delayed out of London and paid a taxi driver more money than I care to admit to take me to the start of the trail because of the late hour. The night sky had the unearthly sable colour you might associate with Hades’ underworld and the rain descended in violent, relentless slashes. I walked by the light of a headtorch for an hour before finding a suitable place to camp. And by suitable I mean the only place within a mile that was not boggy or covered by a sheen of thick, muddy rainwater. My dual skin tent pitched inner first and, no matter how quickly I erected the inner, it was soaked before I could get the fly on. I crawled in, the rain dripping off every part of my body. Fortunately, by luck rather design, I had a synthetic fill sleeping bag so, damp as it was, it was still warm enough. I dumped my wet clothes in the porch of my tent and pulled on some warm, dry clothes before slipping into my bag. I was so exhausted that even the thunderous percussion of the rain on the fly was not enough to keep me awake.
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