February 2019
In the midst of a rather chilly spell, I headed off on foot to the same spot where I'd had steak and eggs the previous month. My purpose this time was to attempt another mini milestone - a solo overnight wild camp in the woods. There is something about this idea which 'scares' some people more than camping up on a fell or moor - I think it's a combo of mad axemen and spooky wildlife noises. The Blair Witch Project dunner help none either.
I myself was party to such irrational fears, but then again I really wanted to be able to camp somewhere walking distance from home, and woods just made more sense than a farmer's field (or indeed silly notions of hedges and playing fields spitting distance from home). So I would have to be brave. Trudging through the remnants of snow I enjoyed a beautifully sunny walk in with another stupidly heavy pack. My dodgy rib was loads better by now, but far from completely healed, and I had to stop at a pub to rest half way. Despite the fact it was barely 2 degrees at midday I supped my first beer garden pint of the year, which went down particularly well after a dry January.
Stopping to pick up a few bottles of ale from the student shops at Keele (even more weight!) I reached the spot fairly late, with only a couple of hours of daylight left to get set up and prep wood for a real fire.
As well as the woodland and local aspects, there was another first on offer here - the fact that I was not using a tent. Instead I just had the tarp and a new Snugpak Special Forces bivvy bag - essentially a breathable waterproof cover for my sleeping bag. I also had a new lightweight Helinox chair, but as the light fell the slight yet icy breeze was just too much for me to sit out in comfortably, and I tended to stay in the porch of the 'tarp tent' I'd constructed for shelter.
Once I had a fire going in the Honey Stove I was fairly comfortable, and enjoyed the classic sausage & Uncle Ben's tea, washed down with ice cold ales. Inside the bivvy was really quite cosy considering it dropped to -4c in the night. I had to keep lots of layers on, plus hat and gloves, but it was only just before dawn that I started to get cold spots on my upper flanks as I lay on my side. The ground side was fine with the combo of foam roll mat and Klymit insulated mattress. My face was only an inch or two away from the tarp though, and my breath turned to frost above me, resulting in my own private flurry of snow every time I sat up...
Apart from one odd rustling nearby, there were no spooky noises in the night really. I think it was just too cold for any animals. Presumably woodland mammals like badgers and foxes would be hibernating? More of a disturbance was the odd boy racer on the main road, or drunken students on the nearby campus, both of which I could make out from time to time.
It was a sharp, frosty and clear dawn. It felt great having a brew and some brekkie and watching the light flood through the trees. I lingered well into the morning enjoying every minute. I eventually packed up and left by 11am, and not a moment too soon - a few steps into my walk home and a cocker spaniel ran up near to me, it's owner miles away on the footpath. I need to remember that each passing minute in the morning increases the risk of getting rumbled!
On the walk home, with brilliant blue skies, the frost nipping at my face, and the last of the snow crunching under foot I had one of my 'happy attacks'. I'd done it - a local woodland bivvy camp. I passed the pub at approaching midday and was rattling the doors for a smug celebratory pint...
(I made a short Youtube vid of the camp too)
© Rich Lane 2019
1 comment:
While I wouldn't want to camp out in -4 you have my utmost respect for doing so and write so well about it, it almost convinces me it could be a good idea.
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