“In a well-ordered universe, camping would take place indoors” –Morgan Matson
As a way to distinguish itself from the innumerable sports bars, karaoke bars, gaming bars, Tiki bars and Irish pubs, Iowa City’s new camping-themed bar, named—you guessed it—CAMP is designed to appeal to those who yearn to live like a bear in the woods. Patrons can lounge on orange lawn chairs, drink “signature camp water” from a fishbowl and sample their special “s’mores shots” (yikes!). CAMP’s general manager, Rachel Eisenmann told The Daily Iowan, “I think one of my favorite parts is watching people walk in and they instantly feel comfortable.”
Seriously? Is it possible Ms. Eisenmann doesn’t understand that camping is, by definition, NOT comfortable? Camping is grimy, smelly, inconvenient, dangerous and exhausting. Camping is offering your body to bears, bugs, bad weather and burned food. The only thing separating you and your loved ones from snakes and mountain lions is a half-millimeter-thick nylon tent. The thing that’s great about the great outdoors is that we get to go back inside for a shower, good food and a warm bed.
So when my friend Steve said what he wanted to do for his birthday was to go camping, I said, “Sure!” As long as we could pitch our tents in his back yard within easy reach of indoor plumbing and all the modern conveniences.
I used to be a Boy Scout. I understand camping. First, we had dinner at a nice Mexican restaurant, then, back at the “campsite” we set up the tents. When I say “set up” I mean I took my tent out of the bag and stood back while it popped open, perfectly assembled. It’s basically an umbrella with mosquito netting and a floor. So far, so good.
To me, the most essential part of camping is fire. Any kind of fire will do. But since we were in town, we couldn’t build a bonfire that might frighten the neighbors and summon the fire department. Steve has a huge, metal contraption with mesh sides and a lid designed to contain the blaze. I gathered twigs and dry branches from around the yard and soon the dancing flames lit up the campsite. Then, the fire began to roar and pop, exhaling a fearsome shower of sparks through the mesh. It turns out, pine wood sap is what turpentine is made out of and a little of it goes a long way.
After the danger of burning down the neighborhood had passed, it was getting late and we decided to turn in. “It’s about time my raccoons will be coming for their dinner,” said Steve casually. Evidently, I wasn’t the only one invited to the party. Every night Steve sets out several cups of cat food for the raccoons. As I lay wide awake in my sleeping bag on the rock-hard ground (complete with real rocks), I heard Steve’s raccoons shuffling around my tent. They were snarling and fighting over the cat food, brushing against the tent. They were so close I could hear them breathe. Around one a.m. I had had enough of the outdoor life. I packed up and headed back to my warm bed. And if I ever get the urge to go camping again, I know a place with orange lawn chairs that serves s’mores by the shot.
Living in Iowa: Camping with raccoons
November 2, 2023