Camping at Powell River, British Columbia

“Camping!” I exclaimed incredulously. Just the mere thought of spending the night outdoors terrified and disgusted me. I fumed as my mother explained how it would ultimately be an amazing experience; utilizing the hackneyed cliché of “try something new!”, and gradually she succeeded in persuading me to accept what I was certain would be a horrifying nightmare.

Camping at Powell River BC, Canada

Two weeks later, we had packed our bags, journeyed across the Georgia Strait by ferry, conquered the endless road, and finally arrived at our campsite by Powell River. Needless to say, I was dismayed at the ridiculously primitive sight that awaited me. A flat expanse of dirt enclosed by some shrubbery; an isolated, barely visible restroom located in the distance, and a lone shallow pit with some stray coals were all that greeted me. However, my parents were eager to assemble the tents, and I reluctantly helped in their first dozen futile attempts. By the time the tents were fit to sleep in, dusk had fallen, and so we prepared to spend the night. Surprisingly, the sleeping bags were more snug than I had originally imagined, and we passed the night smoothly, only to awaken at dawn to a concerto of screeching crows.

Breakfast was feasible.  Fresh bread and fruits are the way to go on a camping expedition. Lunch was an entirely different matter. Cooking food over the primordial “stove” was no easy feat. Beware potential campers: it might be a smart idea to invest in a portable stove for your trip.

By noon, I had actually begun to enjoy myself as we trekked down to the shore, not far from our campsite. Gentle waves lolled over the moist sand, and I couldn’t resist abandoning my shoes and plunging into the water. After emerging from the waves, caked with salt and mud, I discovered – and marveled at – the miniature world that existed in the tide pools around me. We spent the entire afternoon on that beach; the bond with the various wildlife and creatures I discovered was so overwhelming that, by leaving, I felt a tangible sense of loss. Yet despite my heartache, I was looking forward to the next day of adventure that awaited me.

Some things you cant Prepare for when Camping: Like Actually Enjoying Camping!

Looking back two years later, I still hold dear many of those precious memories I experienced camping at Powell River. During the expanse of just five days, I hiked an eight kilometre trail, waded in a pond filled with fist-sized tadpoles and frogs in their process of metamorphosis; I learned to appreciate and embrace the natural environment around me; I encountered snakes, deer, and even a baby beaver (or possibly a large rat), and I survived it all.

I consider my experience somewhat similar to that which the tadpoles I saw were going through. They were changing from an infantile state to their adult counterparts. I developed from having a myopic point of view to the person I am today, willing and keen to try new things. And, of course, becoming an avid camper since then is undeniable.

Author: Sandra Chou

Edited by: CampTrip.com