Glamping - A Guest Blog About Brain Injury - by Greg Pastore

Glamping is camping only glamorous – this is camping in comfort by bringing non-essential items that fit in your car. With a car full, you can drive up to a campsite and set up a tent without keeping track of daylight. Really, this is the chief concern next to a masterful culinary creation. Making food requires no consideration for bulk and all regards for flavor (Flavor isn’t much of a concern after hiking-in with what can be carried on your back.) With a cooler full of food, a Bluetooth speaker gently played music, which romanticized the moment.

I’m exaggerating when I portray glamping as superfluous and irresponsible. The moment requiring sobriety was setting-up the tent, which if it was done hastily, could wreak havoc on comfort and sleep. Having to shift or toss-and-turn all night just to get a hour of sleep contradicts glamping—however, an inflatable air-mattress can remedy this.

Glamping also requires a massive and wasteful fire, which is sustained by heavy logs and cardboard (or any combustible heap which fits in your car.) If you want to really drive home the glamping experience, considerations for musical instruments should be made.

Purist hikers and campers look down on this experience as too luxurious to be considered real camping. They are accurate in their criticism but because of the relative discomfort and difficulty of previous trips, some much needed ease was due.

We packed an oversized tent, two coolers of food and beer, air mattresses, sleeping bags, blue tooth speakers, two guitars, camp chairs, glow sticks, extra clothes (winter weather clothing in case of a chill,)  large pots and pans to cook in excess, days worth of combustibles, and a slackline (we brought only what was required).

After our perilous journey by car,  we needed to satisfy our rapacious hunger. The campfire was established with a pile of wood nearby to feed the layer of hot coals. A hotplate of burgers and bacon was carefully placed on top. The smell immediately  combined with the wood-fire smoke to signal imminent joy. Accompanying the plates of food were guitars and Bluetooth speakers. The instruments were  fumbled with while impatient onlookers sought entertainment with phones. The tent—dubbed the Taj Mahal—could fit all eight of us easily and was erected before anymore festivities commenced.

As the fire consumed nightfall, the noise level became toxic. Luckily we were placed far away from neighbors! Guitars were warmed up and played with ease. Nostalgic stories of trips past created laughter that would have woke the entire neighborhood. Liquid courage fueled brave slackline participants who ignored the risk of a taught rope between their legs. Barely able to stand, I watched brave friends fly off the edge (just missing certain sterilization).

The cavalcade of participants continued until the camp-fire fuel became scarce. That was a certain signal to retire to the Taj Mahal. We found our sleeping bags with glow sticks hanging from the center. I was given an air mattress; why? Surely my slacklined friends could’ve used one. It occurred to me that I was being pampered; Were my friends really this kind?

Looking back on this, my friends endeared themselves to me. I am grateful for the warm memories. These guys erased the depression I felt from my injury, and I love them for that!