“…but I’m not looking for anything hardcore, yet.”
I’m often asked for advice about outdoor trips, and every once in a while, the person ends the question with the above statement. I find this interesting, especially the “yet” part. The inference is that there’s a hierarchy to the camping world; your first trips start with a trailer full of propane tanks and a chainsaw, then you go to a campsite just outside of the suburbs, then you drive a canoe out to a nice little lake, and so on, until eventually, you’re dropped out of a helicopter into some rapids in the middle of winter with a knife in your belt and a wool blanket, to emerge six weeks later wearing a three-piece birch bark suit.
