How I finally fell in love with camping: Sleeping in the silence and safety of my car.

Summit lake campground at sunrise.

My mother took us camping in Yosemite National Park every summer when I was a kid.

I realize now that what she did was pretty wonderful. But at the time, I kinda hated it.

Especially the long drive to the park through the hot and boring San Joaquin Valley in my mother’s tiny Honda Civic station wagon, which was so crammed with our equipment and food that my sister and I had to take turns sitting. 

Yep, when the passenger seat was taken, the only other place to shove a small human was in the stifling hot few inches of space on top of the pile of tents and sleeping bags. I can still remember lying there, staring at the roof of the car and praying for the wheels to slow because it meant we were stopping for popsicles again. 

Which was a brilliant tactic by our mother to keep us from completely collapsing into tantrums of despair — since she never let us eat sugar at home, she knew that we would patiently endure nearly anything if it had the promise of frozen sugar water at the end, even hours stuck in a hot car with nothing to do but stare at the fields of crops and play word games. (Since this was the time before you could carry constant distraction everywhere, the only entertainment in our car was what we made ourselves.)

And even when we got to the campground, our time in the car was far from over. Because these were also the days before reservations, my mother’s plan for snagging us a campsite was usually to arrive in the middle of the night, then sleep in in our car while wait for people to leave at first light.

At least the car was cooler and had more room inside when my mother was out prowling for the best site — she always wanted one next to the meadow for the best birding — but I was always too anxious to really sleep, and all I wanted to do at that point was get out of the car.

So many decades later while camping at another national park this year, I was shocked to find myself not only choosing to crawl back into my car to sleep, but actually kinda loving it.

It was on my first night camping at Lassen Volcanic National Park this summer, when I was unable to fall asleep in my tent because my body was aching and the campers next-door would not stop talking, and in desperation I finally I dragged all my sleeping gear into my car.

That was cool.

Watching the sunset from inside my car.

Because my bedding became more comfortable, it was quiet, and I felt more safe in there. Best of all,  I could see the stars, including one streaking across the sky.

Sleeping with a view of the night sky reminded me of the best moments on family road trips, my parents at the wheel, me falling asleep with the trees flying by. 

And one of the things I dislike the most about sleeping in a tent, other than feeling like a human burrito just lying there for animals of all sizes to snack on, is that you can’t see the stars.

But in the car I had a wonderful view, and though the moon did get too bright — I remember waking up to a bright light shining in my face and being thoroughly confused — so I will definitely need to get window shades for the next time.

Because yes, I think there will be a next time. I liked having all my stuff around me, already packed and ready to drive away with me at any moment. And it felt like sleeping in my own bed almost, because it had years of my own breath and smells and memories all around me. Not like an unfamiliar hotel room, where I never get good sleep the first night, no matter how tired I am.

And I really needed the good sleep in got in my car, because I would not only be climbing Lassen Peak, but fixing my broken sunglasses at the top!