| The Call of the Wild | The Hamilton Spectator - May 16, 2002 | |
In campgrounds all around the province the call of the wild is regularly being interrupted by the incessant honking of car alarms. Worse yet is the clamour of one of those really irritating security systems that goes through a whole symphony of harsh sounds before it’s owner finally fumbles for the off switch.
But, since this is technically called “car camping”, one must accept the presence of automobiles, complete with alarms, booming speakers and unmuffled exhausts. (For the uninitiated: “car camping” means you’re able to drive to your campsite, as opposed to “interior camping” where you abandon your automobile in favour of a more idyllic form of transportation such as a canoe or kayak, then paddle off to some remote lakeside locale.)
But regardless of where you choose to pitch your tent, almost everyone must first drive to the park. And nowhere else can you spy more combinations and permutations of vehicles and towed vehicles than in this provincial campground.
By far the most common sighting is a van or SUV towing a tent trailer, upon which are piled a bunch of bicycles and a canoe. Also popular is the pickup truck/motor boat combination. After that, the automotive alternatives branch out to truck campers, house trailers, converted vans, fifth-wheel rigs, and the much-dreaded Winnebagos™.
While privately owned recreational vehicles of this weight class are usually handled adroitly with no injury to flora or fauna, rented motor homes are a much different matter. As if you couldn’t already tell from the RENT ME signs and 1-800 numbers plastered all over these monsters, the neophyte driver’s clumsy maneuvering and the telltale dents and scrapes are all dead giveaways that this is indeed a rental unit. Chipmunks and children alike know to get out of the way when one of these tree limb-snapping behemoths comes lumbering through the campsite.
On the extreme opposite end of the spectrum is the teeny tiny compact car with its accompanying impossibly small pup tent. That folks manage to fit inside either one of these without experiencing a fit of claustrophobia is truly amazing.
Regardless of size, when camping cars are more than just a means of transportation. They fill a myriad of other functions; regularly being pressed into service as a change room, luggage rack, larder, stereo, and even an overnight garbage can (when you’re too lazy to cart the garbage to the proper receptacle, but still wish to thwart the raccoons).
Upon occasion some people do take the term “car camping” literally. Overwhelmed by torrential downpours, flooded tents and soggy sleeping bags, some campers bow to Mother Nature and simply retreat to their cars where they doze fitfully through the night, dry, but twisted up in pretzel-like positions.
What is most surprising about all this is the fact that these car owners willingly subject their vehicles to the rigors of such a trip. Camping is not kind to cars. Yet still they come, traveling down the rut-infested, bone-jarring dirt paths that pass for roads up here. From junkers to Jeeps, and everything in between, they’re here, including brand-new SUVs, Mercedes, Beamers, and even the occasional VW Bug.
Apparently the desire to commune with nature and camp among the pines is so strong that it even supersedes the car owners’ obsessive need to pamper their vehicles. Which is rather amazing given the fact that automobiles rarely come through a camping experience unscathed.
There are no mud flaps big enough to protect your precious paint job from these gravel-spitting roads. Squirrels delight in dropping pinecones on your roof, and gobs of pine sap drip everywhere. At the very least, your car will end up dirt-encrusted with little “wash me” signs finger-painted in the dust, and the acrid smell of campfire smoke will linger inside long after your trip is over. Worse yet are the distressing scratches and dents that are the result of a misjudged trailer hook-up, an errant tree limb, or the slip of a hand while off-loading a canoe. Then there is the unthinkable: moose verses car.
Car camping can best be described as an uneasy alliance between two opposing elements. The forest suffers the cars’ various pollutants and the vehicles bear the scars of venturing beyond the city limits.
Yet despite all these problems, intrepid campers continue to return year after year; truly enjoying the time they, and their automobiles, spend in the wilderness.