A Love Letter to Campsites
This is a love letter to campsites.
My previous blog focused on the issues of illegal ‘free-camping’ (I called it wild campervanning but technically because it’s in a campervan it’s not classed as wild camping) and the pressures that local communities, habitats and wildlife are facing as a direct result of an influx of these campers. As I was writing it, I realised that this is an issue I’m incredibly passionate about.
I also realised that I am incredibly passionate about campsites.
I never thought I’d say that, honestly, up until a few years ago I just saw them as a base to put your van and that was that, but they are much more than that. They are someone’s business, they are a haven for nature, they are a way of putting money back into the surrounding community, and they are a way to allow people to reconnect with the outdoor experience.
Now, I’m not talking about the huge sites with the club houses and daily activities and lad’s holidays and hen dos. This is not a love letter to them, whilst they might be great for some people, they aren’t my idea of fun, certainly not my idea of a holiday and I avoid them with all my might.
This is a love letter to the small campsites; the campsites in the middle of nowhere with the solar powered shower and compostable toilets, the small family run campsites that work hard to keep their facilities clean and their guests happy, the independent campsites and the farmers fields where they let you sit round a crackling campfire. These are the sites deserving of our love.
Over the past few years, for me, campsites have become more than just a place to park a van, they have been a source of income. From working as wardens in Scotland, to now cleaning facilities at our local site they have slowly wound their way into my everyday life.
I love turning up to work and seeing lines of tents and caravans, people sat out round a BBQ relaxing, the walkers coming back from their day hikes and the kids being full-on free range. They can run and explore the small site in safety; looking for crickets in the messy edges, watching birds soar overhead, or just charging about playing tag.
It is joyous.
Campsites are joyous places.
They are simplistic and it’s that simplicity that sells them.
A chance to disconnect from the Wi-Fi and reconnect with ourselves, with nature and with each other. We take the time to just sit and be when we are on a campsite and be honest with yourselves; how often do you get to do that on a daily basis?
Their quiet locations and green spaces make these retreats the ideal place for wildlife. It becomes a sanctuary for wildness and everything from woodpeckers, to rabbits, to badgers and all those in between makes their homes alongside the campsite guests.
The site I work on at the moment is jam-packed with nature.
On the drive up along the old drove track I see countless numbers of birds, hares and rabbits, sometimes there are deer in the fields, sometimes a woodpecker greets me at the gate. It is wild in abundance – especially the toilet block, which if someone leaves a light on and a window open it turns into a giant moth trap, and it takes me double the time to clean whilst I try to ID all these wonderful winged creatures.
It's not just the wildlife that benefits, it’s the local economy too. Guests go on days out, they go to the pub for lunch, or they head to the local shop to pick up their shopping. Perhaps they might visit a local attraction and then they’ll tell their friends about it and they might come with them next time. It brings money into the area, which, at the moment with the whole Covid thing, is a blessing to small otherwise struggling businesses.
We need our campsites and we need to help them. To help them, we need to use them.
Those of us with campers, those of us with tents, caravans, motorhomes, bivvy bags – whatever your choice of outdoor apparatus is I implore you to consider your campsite. I implore you to try one out and see the benefits for yourself - you don’t even have to use the facilities if you don’t want to. Just don’t diminish them as not real outdoor experiences - because they are outdoor experiences and they are better for us, for wildlife and the local area than just pitching up on a verge.
I ask you to start to think differently about them, to see them not as a barrier to wildness but as a gateway to it. Seek out the small sites and use them. Put back into the communities of the areas in which you like to explore and learn to love your campsite stays.
Who knows, you might find yourself writing your own campsite love letter.
Here’s a list of UK Campsite resources to help you plan your next campsite adventure:
