A few years ago, my daughter Zara and I joined our friends David and Kelly, and Necota and Sonya for a camping/offroading trip.
Between the three vehicles, we had just about every interpretation of “camping” represented.
Necota and Sonya showed up in an old Land Cruiser pulling what can only be described as the outdoor equivalent of a luxury condo. They had a Gazelle tent and a Gazelle gazebo. The gazebo became their living room and kitchen, complete with a propane fire pit.
They even brought astroturf.
Their tent had a big, deep inflatable mattress. Once everything was set up, they were basically living like royalty.
David and Kelly arrived in an Isuzu Trooper with a rooftop tent. Their setup fell somewhere in the middle. Comfortable, efficient, and well-equipped. They cooked on a skottle and had the kind of camp that most people today would probably recognize as a pretty typical overlanding setup.
Then there was Zara and me.
We were in StoryTeller, my Jeep, and most of our equipment was backpacking gear.
Zara slept in the Jeep. I started the night in an REI Half Dome tent.
“Started” being the important word.
Sometime during the night a pretty substantial storm rolled through, complete with hail. At some point I decided that sleeping inside several thousand pounds of Jeep sounded considerably better than sleeping underneath a few ounces of nylon, so I abandoned ship and climbed into the Jeep.
The next morning, we discovered that Sonya hadn’t even known there had been a storm.
Apparently astroturf has benefits I hadn’t considered.
Breakfast provided another illustration of the differences between our camps.
Zara and I had instant grits with single-serving packets of SPAM.
David and Kelly were making bacon and eggs.
Necota and Sonya were cooking God knows what, but I distinctly remember sausage links being involved.
We took some abuse over our accommodations and culinary choices.
And they weren’t entirely wrong.
But here’s the thing:
We had a great time.
All six of us.
Nobody’s version of camping was more legitimate than anybody else’s. Necota and Sonya valued comfort and built an incredible camp. David and Kelly had a well-equipped vehicle-based setup. Zara and I essentially took the equipment we already owned from backpacking and threw it into the Jeep.
Every one of those approaches worked.
And that’s really the point.
Somewhere Along the Way, Camping Got Complicated
Spend enough time looking at camping and overlanding content online and you could easily come away believing that spending a night in the woods requires a rooftop tent, 12-volt refrigerator, slide-out kitchen, awning, solar panels, storage drawers, auxiliary battery system, and enough LED lighting to make your campsite visible from orbit.
None of those things are bad.
In fact, after you’ve spent enough time camping, some of them start looking pretty attractive.
I can assure you that while I was lying in the Jeep listening to hail bounce off the roof, Necota and Sonya’s setup seemed particularly well thought out.
But none of that equipment is the price of admission.
Camping really comes down to a handful of basic needs:
You need somewhere to sleep. You need to stay reasonably warm and dry. You need food and water. And you need enough equipment and knowledge to safely spend the night outdoors.
How elaborate you make everything beyond that is entirely up to you.
Start With What You Have
When Zara and I made that trip, we already owned backpacking equipment.
So that’s what we used.
That’s one of the easiest ways to start camping.
Look around your house before you start shopping.
That sleeping bag in the closet may be perfectly adequate. The folding chair you take to outdoor events works just as well beside a campfire. Your kitchen already contains pots, pans, utensils, knives, cups, and cutting boards.
You don’t need to purchase an “overlanding” version of everything you already own.
A basic tent from a sporting goods store can provide years of service.
Plastic storage totes work.
A regular cooler works.
Blankets work.
You can upgrade all of those things later.
In fact, I’d recommend that you don’t buy everything before your first trip.
Go camping first.
You’ll discover very quickly what actually bothers you.
Then spend money solving those problems.
Vehicle Camping Changes the Equation
My background in backpacking taught me to pay attention to weight.
When you’re carrying everything on your back for ten miles, ounces eventually become pounds and pounds eventually become misery.
Vehicle camping is different.
The Jeep doesn’t care very much whether my skillet weighs eight ounces or eight pounds.
That opens up a lot of possibilities.
Comfortable chairs. Cast iron. Bigger tents. Real pillows. More food. More water. Heavier sleeping systems.
But vehicle camping introduces another problem:
Space.
You would be amazed how quickly a Jeep fills up.
Tents, sleeping bags, chairs, coolers, food, water, recovery equipment, clothing and cooking gear start consuming space quickly. Add another person and suddenly you’re playing a three-dimensional game of Tetris every morning.
So while weight isn’t nearly as important as it is in backpacking, pack size and organization still matter.
You don’t necessarily need an expensive drawer system.
Sometimes a couple of plastic totes are exactly the right answer.
You Don’t Need a Refrigerator
A 12-volt refrigerator is wonderful.
A cooler also works.
People have been successfully camping with coolers for a very long time.
One of my favorite tricks is to freeze some of the water I’m already planning to drink.
Instead of filling the cooler entirely with bags of ice, freeze several bottles of water before leaving. They help keep everything cold, and as they thaw they become drinking water.
You’re making the same space do two jobs.
For longer trips, block ice tends to last longer than cubes. Keep the cooler shaded whenever possible and resist opening it every fifteen minutes.
And if you have room for a separate drink cooler, that’s even better. The food cooler stays closed.
Camp Food Can Be Whatever You Want It to Be
Our breakfast on that trip was a perfect example.
Instant grits and SPAM.
Bacon and eggs.
Whatever five-star backcountry brunch Necota and Sonya were producing over at Camp Astroturf.
All perfectly valid.
One of the great things about vehicle camping is that food can be as simple or elaborate as you want.
If cooking is part of the experience for you, build a great camp kitchen and have at it.
If you’d rather eat something simple and get back on the trail, that’s fine too.
You can also make camp cooking considerably easier by doing the work at home.
Chop vegetables beforehand. Marinate meat. Portion ingredients by meal. Chili, stew, pulled pork, soups, and similar foods can be completely cooked at home and simply reheated at camp.
Frozen meals can even help keep the cooler cold while they thaw.
Breakfast can be bacon and eggs.
It can also be a granola bar and coffee.
Nobody is keeping score.
Well, your friends might be.
But that’s part of camping too.
Ground Tent, Rooftop Tent, or Vehicle?
That trip also demonstrated something else nicely.
We had all three.
Necota and Sonya were in a large ground tent.
David and Kelly were in a rooftop tent.
Zara was sleeping inside the Jeep.
And eventually, so was I.
Each option has advantages.
Ground tents
They’re relatively inexpensive, available in virtually every imaginable size, and you can leave them standing when you drive away from camp.
Their disadvantages are equally obvious: rocks, roots, mud, uneven ground, crawling in and out, and weather.
Rooftop tents
They’re quick, comfortable, and get you off the ground. Many include a mattress and can create a very comfortable sleeping setup.
They’re also expensive. They add weight high on the vehicle, affect aerodynamics, occupy roof space, and usually have to be packed up before you can drive anywhere.
Sleeping in the vehicle
Depending on your vehicle and how many people you’re traveling with, this may be the simplest option available.
No tent to set up. No rainfly. No wet tent to pack in the morning.
But everything occupying that space during the day needs somewhere to go when it’s time for bed.
There isn’t a correct answer.
There is only the answer that works for the way you travel.
Don’t Build a Camp You Hate Breaking Down
There’s another lesson that usually takes a few trips to learn.
Everything you unpack eventually has to be packed again.
It’s easy to arrive Friday afternoon excited about the weekend and build a small village.
Tent.
Awning.
Table.
Kitchen.
Chairs.
Lights.
Hammock.
Gazebo.
Astroturf, apparently.
Then Sunday morning arrives.
Everything is covered in dew, you’re tired, you haven’t had coffee yet, and somehow all of it needs to fit back into the vehicle.
There’s absolutely nothing wrong with an elaborate camp. If I’m establishing a basecamp for several days, comfort becomes increasingly important.
But if I’m moving every morning, simplicity becomes valuable very quickly.
Build the camp that fits the trip.
An overnight stop doesn’t need to look like a four-night basecamp.
Buy Gear to Solve Problems
This is where I think people new to camping can save themselves a lot of money.
Don’t buy equipment because someone on YouTube has it.
Don’t buy it because every overland build on Instagram seems to have one.
Buy equipment because you’ve identified a problem that it solves.
Couldn’t sleep because the ground was uncomfortable?
Buy a better sleeping pad.
Your cooler couldn’t keep food cold long enough?
Upgrade the cooler or consider a refrigerator.
Your gear was scattered throughout the Jeep and you couldn’t find anything?
Improve your storage.
Setting up and tearing down your tent every day became a hassle?
Maybe a rooftop tent makes sense.
You discovered that you really enjoy cooking at camp?
Build a camp kitchen.
And if your friend sleeps peacefully through a hailstorm while you’re abandoning your tent in the middle of the night?
Maybe take a closer look at her setup.
After enough trips, you may eventually end up with the rooftop tent, refrigerator, awning, drawer system, camp kitchen, solar panels, and yes, maybe even the astroturf.
That’s fine.
The difference is that you’ll know why you own them.
Simple Doesn’t Mean Unprepared
There is an important distinction here.
We’re advocating simple camping.
We’re not advocating being unprepared.
Weather changes. Vehicles break. People get hurt. Cell phones lose service. Temperatures drop. Roads wash out.
Carry adequate water.
Have appropriate clothing and rain gear.
Carry a first-aid kit and necessary medications.
Know where you are and have a navigation method that doesn’t depend entirely on cell service.
If you’re traveling off pavement, carry appropriate vehicle recovery equipment and know how to use it.
Pay attention to weather and fire restrictions.
Tell somebody where you’re going and when you expect to return.
You can be extremely well prepared without having an elaborate campsite.
Practice at Home
Your first time setting up a new tent shouldn’t be at 10:30 at night in the rain somewhere in the North Georgia mountains.
Set it up in the backyard.
Light the stove.
Inflate the mattress.
Figure out where everything fits.
If you’ve never camped before, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with spending your first night at an established campground with bathrooms, potable water, and other people nearby.
You can even camp in your backyard.
The objective isn’t to prove anything.
It’s to become comfortable outdoors.
Leave It Better Than You Found It
Whatever your version of camping looks like, the responsibility is the same.
Use established campsites whenever possible. Respect private property and land-use regulations. Follow fire restrictions. Don’t cut live vegetation for firewood. Secure food and trash from wildlife. Properly dispose of human waste. Pack out everything you brought in.
And when you find somebody else’s trash, picking up a little of it isn’t a bad habit.
Our goal should always be simple:
The next person shouldn’t be able to tell we were there.
Just Go Camping
Looking back at that trip, I don’t remember feeling like Zara and I needed a better camping setup.
I remember laughing.
I remember the storm.
I remember abandoning the tent.
I remember instant grits and SPAM while everybody around us seemed to be preparing breakfast worthy of a restaurant.
I remember giving each other a hard time.
And I remember having a great time with people I cared about.
That’s what mattered.
Necota and Sonya didn’t need to simplify their camp.
David and Kelly didn’t need to give up their rooftop tent.
And Zara and I didn’t need to buy thousands of dollars worth of equipment before we were qualified to join them.
We all got outside.
We all spent the night in the same place.
And we all came home with a story.
Your first camping setup doesn’t need to be your ultimate camping setup.
Take what you have. Cover the basics. Go somewhere beautiful. Spend a night outside. Figure out what worked and what didn’t.
Then go again.
Eventually you’ll build a camping system that’s entirely your own.
Maybe that’s a sleeping bag in the back of a Jeep.
Maybe it’s a rooftop tent.
Maybe it’s a Gazelle gazebo with a kitchen, propane fire pit, deep inflatable mattress, and a patch of astroturf.
If you’re comfortable, safe, responsible, and having a good time, you’re doing it right.
Camping doesn’t have to be complicated. You just have to go.