Roughing it

I grew up camping, and I enjoy it. I have no problem cooking over a fire or camp stove, sleeping on the ground, or peeing in the woods. I have carried a pack roughly a third my own weight, I've gone for a few days with no access to running water (and then showered at a truck stop. No regrets.), and I have gotten so nasty-sweaty-muddy that the Deep Woods OFF! was a joke; no self-respecting bug would have come near me.

In spite of all that, as I get older, I find that camping is losing some of its appeal. Some of that is because there aren't many places you can camp where you aren't surrounded by asshats who don't seem to understand the difference between a National Park and their neighborhood bar. Seriously, one time these guys kept their car engine running for EIGHT HOURS because they had a full-sized computer plugged into the cigarette lighter so they could play video games (obviously this was awhile ago). My point is, while we don't rule out backpacking for a few days, and we incorporate a tent into our road trips, we lean towards creature comforts when we can.

Take this trip, for example. We just got back from New Mexico (cool weather. rain. bliss.). David wanted to take the dogs, so camping was a possibility until they closed the national forest due to fire danger. Hotels traditionally frown on shrieking puppies and shedding pitbulls, so we opted for a cabin. We'd had a good experience with the cabins at Buffalo River last Thanksgiving, so we figured we'd give it a shot. And for what we payed, I was impressed - full kitchen, spotlessly clean, ample room and quiet. The bathroom was tiny; but it had a shower, toilet and sink, so what more do you need, right? The whole atmosphere was relaxing, and just what we needed.

But here's the thing: within fifteen minutes of getting home, I was in the shower. My OWN shower, where I didn't elbow the wall while lathering my hair. Where I could use four kinds of soap and a back brush. Where the water pressure was constant. It's not that the cabin lacked any amenities we needed; it's just that, I guess, there's no place like home. And more than anything else about camping or traveling, I love feeling squeaky clean and sweet smelling. So although we weren't in a four-star hotel on this trip, the roughest thing that came out of it are my heels, from wearing sandals. I'm going soft, caring about rough spots.