Camping when the nights are cool is not for the faint-hearted, but it can be one of the most joyful and life-affirming ways to recalibrate
There’s often a tendency for humans to hibernate a little like bears during the cooler winter months. And while the warmer weather of spring is nearing, it’s still tempting to stay cosy at night, to feast on heartier meals, and power through episode after episode on Netflix. But spending time inside without much natural light is not good for body or soul.
For myself, I’ve found that spending too much time indoors under artificial light and with an overload of technology and screens has an adverse effect on me. I feel off-kilter. My sleeping habits are askew and my energy levels are running on empty.
Stress-buster
Immersing ourselves in nature has long been a way of reducing stress and boosting natural serotonin. Numerous studies show how happiness increases with exposure to sunlight, but spending time in nature can also help to reset our internal clock – or circadian rhythm – which often takes a battering when we spend too much time inside.
A University of Colorado study on the benefits of camping showed that our sleep clocks can be recalibrated after spending a weekend immersed in nature. While bushland rambles and nature hikes do help to restore this imbalance, there’s something to be said about really embracing the elements and spending a night or two under canvas in the great outdoors. Now I’m usually a fair-weather camper but lately I’ve been intrigued by the burgeoning trend for cool-weather camping.
A survey by America’s Outdoor Foundation showed that more than a third of campers now prefer to do so in the colder months, citing silence, space, and solitude as reasons why it beats the summertime version hands down.
So, armed with a colourful array of thermals, a hip flask, and hot water bottle, I go off-grid for the weekend in order to reset and recharge. While the area I’m camping in is usually booked solid during the summer months – when it attracts reams of young families and groups of friends who come to escape the hustle and bustle of city life – in winter and on the cusp of spring it becomes the domain of the hardier camper and a rural escape for those looking for some quiet contemplation and peaceful solitude. On the weekend I visit, daytime temperatures are a less-than-balmy 10°C.
Quiet contemplation
Blissfully, I have no itinerary for the weekend. I haven’t downloaded any podcasts, my phone is switched off, but I have, rather ambitiously for two nights, packed a stack of books.
Camping in the cool is a whole different ballgame to doing so in halcyon sunshine-drenched summer days, when it’s all touch footy, cold beers, and barbecues. For a start, there’s no drunken carousing until the early hours, it’s often dark by 5:30 pm, and rather than play games or sing songs around the campfire, it’s all about enjoying the silence and spending time with your thoughts.
At the site, campfires are allowed when there are low fire-danger ratings, so after getting some supplies from the local shop, I’m all set for an alfresco dinner. After scouring the nearby scrub for kindling for my fire – built and eventually lit by my own two hands – I sit and watch the logs fizz and pop as it crackles into life, the only noise breaking through the deafening silence of the night.
An hour passes in moments, as I’m mesmerised by the Jaffa-hued flames and smoky wisps that evaporate into the chilly air. It’s a clear night and staring up at a powdery shower of stars scattered across the inky sky, I’m soon reminded of how small and inconsequential we really are.
After a solid 10-hour sleep, I wake up naturally to the hoots of kookaburras in the distance and peek out of my humble lodgings to see a fat sun straining to crest the horizon. Pulling on my beanie and boots, I venture out of my cosy nest and note the frosted spiderwebs twinkling across the ferns, while bare gums with gnarled branches claw at the hazy grey sky. One of my favourite things about camping at any time of year is taking pleasure in the small, more mundane aspects of daily life: from boiling water in the battered tin kettle for my coffee and scouring for dried kindling, to mindfully washing up my breakfast plates in the early-morning mist.
There’s something to be said about really embracing the elements and spending a night or two under canvas in the great outdoors.
After a heavenly morning of pottering around my little camp, I decide to venture out further and take a stroll across the field. On my wander back, I watch the sun slink heavily towards the horizon, turning the mottled grey sky a rich tangerine. It’s only 5:00 pm, but the light fades quickly with every footstep and I race back to camp before dark.
After dinner, I spend an hour huddled around my little campfire toasting marshmallows to squidge between chocolate biscuits, once again spellbound by its dancing flames. After rising with the birds this morning, I can feel the heaviness of sleep on its way – slowly but surely I can feel my circadian rhythm returning to a normal beat – and retire to my cosy burrow a little after eight. Hunkering down with a glass of red wine and my favourite novel, I soon drift off to the chirrup of insects, a shimmer of stars peeking through the skylight of my tent. If this is cool-weather camping, then I’m a complete and committed convert for life.
