Thursday 22nd April 2021
Well so much for getting back to regular camping and writing eh? Just a few days after the camp in my last post 6 months ago I got Covid. And so did my wife and daughter. It knocked us all about in different ways but I was tired, breathless and weak for a good few weeks, during which time the 2nd lockdown kicked in, and has pretty much been in place until last week. During the brief time my area was in 'Tier 3' (remember the tiers?) around Christmas I did have a fantastically lucky local camp in the snow. We got locked down again properly the very next day.
Anyway, as the death toll thankfully eased due to such measures and increasing vaccinations, exactly when the long winter of discontent ended for wild campers in the UK was the subject of much debate. The nearest to a consensus seems to be that April 12th was when campsites opened so it was fair game from then. And I have been out three times since, in just 10 days. All local though, and on foot - easy does it!
The first was a luxurious woodland hammock camp (with a video explaining everything, hence no blog) and the second a modest 'tents on a hill' job with my son.
The third is what I'm writing about here. The weather has been very good of late - extremely dry, lots of sun, but cold - especially at night with frosts still common. Perfect for camping actually, as there is plenty of daylight, but hardly any insects yet. This abundance of time before sunset and after dawn also makes schoolnight microadventures a possibility again, and that's exactly what this was.
Home from work at 4:30, and after a bit of stressy, grumpy last minute packing (where I couldn't seem to find anything I needed) I stepped out of the door at 6pm. The walk in was only half an hour, and was to a spot I'd stumbled across on one of my lockdown wanders a few weeks earlier - a confluence of streams in a pretty inaccessible woodland. It wasn't flat or big enough for a tent really, and there weren't suitable trees for hammocks, but I hoped a bivvy bag could work.
Food and drink had a decidedly local flavour - Staffordshire oatcakes made in Stoke, some superb thick smoky bacon from the village butcher, and a drop of the famous Plum Porter brewed by Titanic in Burslem.
I was filming the cooking, so needless to say The Law Of Sod kicked in and the first oatcake was a visual disaster - a splat of congealed oat flour and cheese smeared between two rashers of bacon. Tasted nice though! I was super careful with the next two and they turned out a little more photogenic.
It was way beyond sunset when I finished all this around 9pm and the temperature dropped pretty rapidly. There was no fire of any kind this time. Merino wool thermals and other warm layers went on. Instead of a coat I've been trying out an insulated poncho liner called the 'Swagman Roll' by Polish company Helikon-Tex. It's a multi purpose bit of kit which I've also used as a sleeping bag and hammock 'overblanket'. One does tend to look a bit of a prize prannett wearing it like a coat though, so it's strictly for camps. I wouldn't wear it to Tescos for example. Or anywhere with humans. But it's very satisfying to have on - a sartorial guilty pleasure. Much like riding a moped, it's great fun until your mates find out.
Supping a dram or two of Bourbon as a nightcap in the glow of the moon and the candle lantern was very relaxing. The bubbling of the stream didn't bother me a fraction as much as I had presumed (I hadn't slept next to one since doing so induced a para trip on my very first 'nearly wild camp' two and a half years ago). There was definitely a creature of some kind rustling around in the bushes right by me though, but again I took it in my stride. It could be that I'm now a seasoned outdoorsman, but it was most probably plain old dutch courage from the booze. I hit the sack at just after midnight.
I slept pretty solidly until daylight and birdsong after 5am. The slope of the pitch did make it a bit awkward (as a result my hips ache a little now, the day after) but most importantly I was warm despite the temperature dropping to around 1°C. On both the other two camps I'd been a little chilly by morning in similar conditions, even with sleeping bags that should have coped based on their spec. Nesh boy here took no chances this time and packed the mighty Snugpak Softie Elite, my oldest sleeping bag, laughably heavy and bulky compared to my others, but still the best for this sort of thing. The thick, roomy Gore Tex British Army bivvy bag and Klymit insulated mat kept me very sheltered and cosy, even without a tarp over me. I was not troubled by any condensation whatsoever despite my breath billowing out in vapourous plumes.
I was up against the clock a bit first thing next day, as I had to get home and then off to work for 8:30. I managed to do a little more filming and brew up an instant coffee. The pack up was super efficient, taking only 15 mins for absolutely everything. Good job too, as I left at the very latest I could to make work on time - which I did - just!
I'm sure I'll be hitting The Peak District and other more scenic spots further afield before very long, but I have to say I've really enjoyed these local, on foot, unspectacular but peaceful camps. There is every bit as much of a sense of adventure in doing them in a new location for the first time. In some ways a spot like this is even more satisfying, as I can be fairly sure that nobody has been anywhere near it for years. There was no car park nearby, no rubbish, no dog muck, no fire scorches, not even any trodden paths other than those made by wildlife. Despite the road roaring away nearby, it was hard work to get to through a thick, dead, ugly brambly wood. But it was a little secret oasis for the night and I absolutely loved it.
Here's the vid I made of the camp...
© R. Lane 2021
