I am Not a Camper
Hi! My name is Sami, and I am not a camper. You are a camper, or you are simply not a camper.
I have always felt a little ashamed I am in the not camping camp. I love a hotel room. I love room service and fancy sheets. I love a resort pool. I even love just being home on the weekend in my bedroom. But this admission makes me a little unAustralian, and I have hidden this knowledge that I am terrified of tents my entire life for fear of being labelled a snob or a wimp.
Why do I dislike camping? Let me count the ways.
- You spend days packing everything from plastic wine glasses to portable toilets.
- Dirt, grime, sweat and general icky-ness (this includes wearing thongs while having a shower).
- Sleeping in a swag (feels like a coffin) or a tent means you spend the entire night listening to rustling sleeping bags and stressing will any wild animals break into the tent and put you out of your misery of sleeping on a sheet of rubber.
- A cup of coffee is a cooking procedure not a pleasure.
- Packing up and then heading home to unpack all over again and wash off the mud and dust and sand off every single tiny item you packed.
I know everyone will say sleeping under the stars trumps all these small issues, but I am yet to be convinced, people!
I have just arrived home from the Dunga Derby, Rally for a Cause. We put together a bash car thanks to very generous local companies and dressed up as Batman and Batgirl and off we went throughout the most remote routes around Toowoomba and south east Queensland. It raised half a million dollars for charity and the people who received the money are perhaps the most deserving in all the nation. The charity pays for things such as funeral for those who cannot afford it or builds a new kitchen for a family where the mum has been diagnosed with a brain cancer and cannot work.
It is powerful stuff. Great people. Great scenery. Freezing cold. Great fun. Except for the camping.
It didn’t help I had a huge target on my back and that naughty Todd I work with cable tied shut my swag with me inside it; placed a fake snake everywhere I went to terrify me; poured ice cold water over me when it was 2 degrees and just in general was a pain in the proverbial. I ended up getting a chopper home because I was a bit pathetic!
If I do Dunga Derby next year (they may not want this princess back) the deal will have to be motel rooms every night.