Happy campers pitch a tent

       Bug spray? 

       Check.

       Matches?

       Check.

       Sleeping bags?

       Check.

       At least two times a year, wife Connie and I pack our hatchback with food staples and supplies and speed off to sleep in the woods amid raccoons, rabbits and other critters common to state parks in southwest Florida. 

       Work schedules allow us to put up the “Gone Camping” notice for about 24 hours, but we pack for a week in the wilderness rather than an overnight in a Florida state park.

       We’re not glampers outfitted with mattresses, solar chandeliers and a tent the size of an island cottage — or rather what used to be the size of an island cottage.

       But we don’t “rough it.”

       We pitch a tent in a camping spot with a water pump, electrical outlets, campfire circle, grill and picnic table and say “hello” to happy campers on both sides of us. 

       A typical trip involves setting up camp, hiking a trail, cooking dinner over an open fire, chatting with other campers, roasting marshmallows, stargazing, playing poker and then drifting off to sleep in the tent.

       We’re miserable campers when the bugs swarm or a thunderstorm hits, but our bad trips have been few.

       We’re the happiest of campers when we get treated to a wildlife encounter.

       On an outing to Little Manatee River State Park June 1, a hawk watched us set up camp. We saw two deer, an armadillo, three gopher tortoises, four pileated woodpeckers and an owl. I spotted a red-headed woodpecker — an addition to my birder’s lifelist. And we listened to a whip-poor-will as darkness fell.

       Only twice have we been frightened in a Florida campground — once by a growl outside the tent at Oscar Sherer State Park, which turned out to be from a rabbit; and once by a scurrying mole, also at Oscar Sherer, located off the Tamiami Trail near Osprey and one of our favorite destinations.

       Our first camping trip in Florida was at Oscar Sherer, where we woke up to six pileated woodpeckers working on the trees above our tent.

       I’d camp more often if opportunities existed even closer to home than the 40-plus minute drive to Little Manatee River or the hourlong drive to Myakka River State Park.

       But public camping is limited in west Bradenton to group outings at Robinson Preserve and prohibited on Anna Maria Island, with exceptions for events such as the sleepover at Coquina Beach for a now-defunct fundraiser.

       Leffis Key at Coquina Beach Bayside would be an ideal spot. Perico and Neal preserves on Perico Island also would be ideal for camping, even if opportunities were limited to a few weekends a year.

       So how do we make for more happy campers?

This column was published in The Islander newspaper

Archives for The Islander are online here.


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