My column about warmer weather might have been a little premature. It was nice when I wrote the story, and probably still is, but it’s winter just the same.

Still, I can’t resist the urge to anticipate spring. Winter is confining, but when spring arrives the whole country could be out camping.
I call it camping, anyway. We get out the tent and the sleeping bags, the stove, cooler, plates, silverware, fishing rods and everything else we need for a wilderness experience. None of those big floppy beds and fancy little tablecloths are going to make camping any easier.

But now we have folks renting brightly designed, dolled-up tents so they can be “glamping,” as they call it (I’m told that’s short for “glamorous camping”). I first heard of this concept when my daughter read about it in a magazine last summer.

The story suggested throwing money at things is the best way to go. One sentence of the fable says, “For a number of people, their first camping experience often becomes their last.”

Is that crazy, or what? Camping is a youthful experience. If we can’t stand that kind of youth, we should stay home.

I will always remember my beginning camping trips and my first pup tent when I was 12. Those trips taught me you can’t believe everything you read in the catalog, and there is no such thing as a waterproof tent.

My first tent was called a “mountain pup” tent, which had a nice ring for a 12-year-old mind. Nobody said what a mountain pup was, and the modern system with the camp trailer and a propane heater wasn’t even a pipe dream in those days.

My first trip was just me and my friend, Bobby, going out to the lake for a couple of nights and a few hours of fishing. The rain began soon after we arrived and we only lasted one night, as I remember it.

I still like to camp, and I prefer a tent. I began in the days when tents were made of nothing but canvas and everything was held together by ropes and wood. Nobody had flexible poles or zippered windows, and any type of critter, such as a raccoon, was just part of the party.

Our modern trends toward more equipment and total protection from the elements have turned camping into a more urban affair, it seems to me. I was talking with a friend recently, when he told me about the first camping trip he took with his wife.

“She went through the kitchen and packed everything we might possibly use when we sat down for dinner,” he said. “We had a table and chairs, coolers and everything a person might need when they were camping.

“Then she packed up the cell phone, radio, portable TV and some magazines a person could read with the electrified light – on a customized stand. Soon, there was barely enough room in our camping box for the paper cutters and scrapbooks we keep around the house. When I looked out there again, a rocking chair was tied to the top of the truck!

“I tried not to say anything. Honestly, I tried. But next time, I’m going to pack my old piece of canvas and tie it together with some ropes and some poles.”

Readers with questions or comments for Roger Pond may write to him in care of this publication.