This week I went on my first real camping trip. That is, I remember taking a Christmas trip with some friends to Kending, in the south of Taiwan, when I was 18, and staying in a tent - but I don't remember much about it, other than that no stoves or sleeping bags or such equipment were involved. I remember taking a blanket, I remember swimming in the sea on Christmas Day, climbing a rocky hill, and walking nervously through a large field of cows, and the delight of chewing sugar cane for the first time, but I can't remember anything about the camping itself. I suppose we ate in nearby restaurants. Other than that, I can remember only two occasions I've slept in a tent: when I went with friends to the Traquair Fair in the Borders, and when I went with another friend by motorbike to the campsite his parents were taking care of on the northeast coast of England (Spittal, Berwick-upon-Tweed?). Both of these must be about fifteen years ago. It's taken me a little while to get back to it, evidently.
On Wednesday afternoon I drove up to State Forest State Park, which is in the north part of Colorado, about 70 miles west of Fort Collins on CO-14, a very winding road through the mountains (and it is a great relief to get to the mountains, after ugly Interstate 25 from Denver). I stayed there for three nights, in the end. I might have stayed away for a little longer, and gone a bit further afield, but it became clear that my kit needs a little bit of rethinking so that I don't freeze, break an ankle, or get sucked dry by mosquitos. And, though I was more comfortable than I expected with being unwashed and covered in dirt and various sticky layers of sunscreen and mosquito repellant, I wasn't unhappy to get back and get into the shower yesterday afternoon either.
It took me much longer than I expected to get along CO-14, and I managed to arrive at the State Park eight minutes after they closed the visitor center on the main road. It meant that I couldn't get advice on campsites, and had to work it out on my own from the signs at the entrance to the park (when I eventually found the entrance, which was cleverly disguised by a KOA campsite). In this park they have both multiple-site campgrounds with some facilities, and "dispersed sites" around the park which are first-come-first-served, usually without anything there except a fire pit. They charge $14 per night for the campgrounds, $8 for the dispersed sites (also $6 per day for the basic daily park pass, but I have an annual pass). If you arrive outside booth hours at the entrance to the park, you fill in your information on a little envelope, put your money into it, post it in their little box, and take with you the detachable permit to put in the site marker for the site you end up at. Of course, if you arrive with no idea of how popular such places are or what sites are available, no firm idea of how many nights you're going to stay, and only enough small bills in your wallet to pay for one night anyway, you can end up doing some more trips than you would like up and down those long dirt roads.
Before I set out from Denver, I thought I was going to find myself a place in one of the campgrounds so that I'd be around people, since I'm inexperienced in camping, and also imagined being a bit frightened in the middle of nowhere on my own in the middle of the night. Somewhere on that long, winding road, though, it became clear to me that being around other people was actually the last thing I wanted, and that I was quite happy at the thought of being off on my own. This was confirmed when I got to the first campground in the park, at the North Michigan Reservoir. The reservoir shore was densely populated with people who seemed to have brought their houses with them. Somehow motor-homes, enormous canopies, and fully equipped outdoor kitchens don't fit with my idea of what camping should be. (As an aside, though, I'd note that the motor-homes here really were fairly modest, the kind familiar in Britain, and not the RVs that are so common in this country: monstrous bus-like things the size of small Scottish towns. I passed one parked at the side of a road yesterday that seemed to have a sun porch attached to the side).
I drove on, without much idea of where I was going, followed a sign up a horrendous rocky and pot-holey road (and I'm so impressed at my little car for getting me through this whole trip without trouble) to one of the dispersed sites that just didn't look very nice, turned back, went up the next road (Francisco Road) passing a site with a motor-home in it at the bottom, then much much further at the top of the road, found the site that became my own. I forgot to ever take a picture of it, but you can see it on the Park's camping page if you scroll down to the dispersed sites and click on no. 440. On my last night there I heard people arrive at a site around the corner, but otherwise there was no-one there but for the odd car passing in the evening.
(I'm going to have to do this in installments, evidently - ran out of time today.)
On Wednesday afternoon I drove up to State Forest State Park, which is in the north part of Colorado, about 70 miles west of Fort Collins on CO-14, a very winding road through the mountains (and it is a great relief to get to the mountains, after ugly Interstate 25 from Denver). I stayed there for three nights, in the end. I might have stayed away for a little longer, and gone a bit further afield, but it became clear that my kit needs a little bit of rethinking so that I don't freeze, break an ankle, or get sucked dry by mosquitos. And, though I was more comfortable than I expected with being unwashed and covered in dirt and various sticky layers of sunscreen and mosquito repellant, I wasn't unhappy to get back and get into the shower yesterday afternoon either.
It took me much longer than I expected to get along CO-14, and I managed to arrive at the State Park eight minutes after they closed the visitor center on the main road. It meant that I couldn't get advice on campsites, and had to work it out on my own from the signs at the entrance to the park (when I eventually found the entrance, which was cleverly disguised by a KOA campsite). In this park they have both multiple-site campgrounds with some facilities, and "dispersed sites" around the park which are first-come-first-served, usually without anything there except a fire pit. They charge $14 per night for the campgrounds, $8 for the dispersed sites (also $6 per day for the basic daily park pass, but I have an annual pass). If you arrive outside booth hours at the entrance to the park, you fill in your information on a little envelope, put your money into it, post it in their little box, and take with you the detachable permit to put in the site marker for the site you end up at. Of course, if you arrive with no idea of how popular such places are or what sites are available, no firm idea of how many nights you're going to stay, and only enough small bills in your wallet to pay for one night anyway, you can end up doing some more trips than you would like up and down those long dirt roads.
Before I set out from Denver, I thought I was going to find myself a place in one of the campgrounds so that I'd be around people, since I'm inexperienced in camping, and also imagined being a bit frightened in the middle of nowhere on my own in the middle of the night. Somewhere on that long, winding road, though, it became clear to me that being around other people was actually the last thing I wanted, and that I was quite happy at the thought of being off on my own. This was confirmed when I got to the first campground in the park, at the North Michigan Reservoir. The reservoir shore was densely populated with people who seemed to have brought their houses with them. Somehow motor-homes, enormous canopies, and fully equipped outdoor kitchens don't fit with my idea of what camping should be. (As an aside, though, I'd note that the motor-homes here really were fairly modest, the kind familiar in Britain, and not the RVs that are so common in this country: monstrous bus-like things the size of small Scottish towns. I passed one parked at the side of a road yesterday that seemed to have a sun porch attached to the side).
I drove on, without much idea of where I was going, followed a sign up a horrendous rocky and pot-holey road (and I'm so impressed at my little car for getting me through this whole trip without trouble) to one of the dispersed sites that just didn't look very nice, turned back, went up the next road (Francisco Road) passing a site with a motor-home in it at the bottom, then much much further at the top of the road, found the site that became my own. I forgot to ever take a picture of it, but you can see it on the Park's camping page if you scroll down to the dispersed sites and click on no. 440. On my last night there I heard people arrive at a site around the corner, but otherwise there was no-one there but for the odd car passing in the evening.
(I'm going to have to do this in installments, evidently - ran out of time today.)
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