Camping, RVing, or Glamping: A Journey Through the Years

On our recent trip to Texas, I found myself with plenty of time to think. The long solo drive to San Antonio gave me hours to reflect, and those quiet morning walks along the beach in South Padre Island only added to it.

I’ve always enjoyed walking on the beach. Whether I’m alone or with someone else, there’s something about the sound of the waves, the steady breeze, and the open horizon that clears my mind and brings back memories.

One morning, I found myself thinking about how much my idea of camping has changed over the years.

As a kid, camping meant pitching a tent in the backyard, usually right beneath my parents’ bedroom window. It felt adventurous, even though I wasn’t very far from home. We told ghost stories, listened to every unfamiliar sound, and convinced ourselves that every rustle in the bushes was something waiting to get us.

We had a simple tent, sleeping bags, and the hard ground beneath us.

It was perfect.

Later came Boy Scout camping trips.

One trip to the Black Hills of South Dakota still stands out. We traveled in an old bus that seemed to overheat every hundred miles. We slept in tents, endured some cold nights, sat around campfires, roasted marshmallows, and shared stories long after the sun went down.

It wasn’t fancy.

It didn’t need to be.

A few years later, a friend’s family owned a boat, and we’d head out onto the St. Croix River to camp on remote islands. We’d spend the days exploring and the evenings sitting around a campfire while the adults laughed and told stories.

We usually woke up sore from sleeping on the ground.

It never mattered.

We couldn’t wait to do it again.

Then came one of the crazier adventures.

A high school friend and I decided it would be fun to ride our ten speed bicycles nearly one hundred miles to Little Falls, Minnesota, carrying all of our camping gear.

Looking back, we probably didn’t spend enough time planning.

Our gear kept falling off the bikes, and we stopped more often than we rode during the first part of the trip.

What I remember most, though, is the kindness of complete strangers.

People invited us to share meals around their campfires, offered encouragement, and made sure two young cyclists had what they needed to continue their adventure.

We didn’t have much, but we felt rich.

As an adult, camping continued to be a big part of my life.

My best friend, Bob, and I spent years taking canoe trips and motorcycle adventures together.

Eventually, though, the ground seemed to get harder and the nights a little colder.

We graduated to KOA cabins.

They were basically small wooden sheds with bunk beds and heat.

At the time, they felt like luxury accommodations.

Before long, tent camping was behind us.

Bob passed away a few years ago, and I still miss him.

Some of my best memories were made on those trips.

My first experience with an RV came during a hunting trip.

Five of us squeezed into a small fifth wheel.

We didn’t bring home a deer, but we had heat, lights, comfortable beds, and enough stories to keep us laughing for years.

That trip opened the door to a different style of camping.

After I got married and the girls came along, we bought a Coleman tent trailer.

We camped often with family and friends.

Our days were filled with hiking, swimming, fishing, and exploring.

Evenings always seemed to end around a campfire.

My daughters still talk about those trips today.

They were special times for all of us.

Today, Pat and I travel in a thirty nine foot fifth wheel with four slides, two televisions, air conditioning, and all the comforts of home.

Some people would probably call it glamping.

I’m perfectly fine with that.

At this point in our lives, we enjoy having those comforts. We’d rather spend our time exploring the places we visit than setting up camp or roughing it simply because we can.

That doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the simpler days.

I do.

In fact, there’s one thing I miss about camping years ago.

Campfires.

It seems like there are fewer of them every year.

Years ago, people naturally gathered around the fire after supper. They visited with neighbors, shared stories, laughed, and often made new friends before heading off to bed.

Today, many campsites become quiet after dark.

People retreat inside to watch television, scroll through their phones, or catch up on social media.

Pat and I still enjoy having a campfire whenever we can.

Sometimes it’s just the two of us.

Sometimes another camper wanders over, we introduce ourselves, and before long we’re swapping stories as if we’ve known each other for years.

To me, that’s still the best part of camping.

Whether you call it camping, RVing, or glamping really doesn’t matter.

It’s never been about where I sleep.

It’s always been about the people I’m with, the memories we make, and the stories that come home with us.