Although it would be much more fun with three of my closest friends, a la Sex and the City, I’m willing to pitch a tent solo. 

It’s hard to imagine those girls of Manhattan swapping Manolo Blahniks for flip flops or cooking at all, let alone roasting weenies over an open flame. But on our Island, a weekend camp out is tantamount to any raging party in any New York neighbourhood. 

Camping is a social endeavour that entertains families, filling provincial campgrounds and logging company recreational sites across Vancouver Island.

Even alone, a major appeal for camping is the lure of the fire; beverages by the fire and staring into the flames until the wee hours of the morning. Tenting solo offers up new campfire challenges. 

How does one pee?

Quickly.

This was before the 40-degree weather and fires were still allowed, but as always the key to a safe campfire is to never leave it unattended. Always add water and stir before leaving. Technically that includes trips to the bathroom, but solo, they’re often performed at a dead run with the fire spread out in the pit.

It also means waiting until you’ve decided on your days’ activities before starting a fire in the morning. The fire is really the only pitfall of camping alone. 

Occasionally a solo camper will be required to dance with the picnic table, inching it from one spot to the other to create the perfect layout. Setting up a tent on your own isn’t that difficult, provided you’ve thought ahead during the purchase phase. My $30 special has two poles and it’s up, add the fly and another pole to create a little porch entryway and my home-away-from-home is ready in 15 minutes – with no arguing. 

While Carrie Bradshaw and entourage won’t miraculously appear at the fire bearing martini makings, camping alone is far from lonely.

A motorhome the size of my apartment pulled in across the way, driver desperately moving forward and back, yelling at the traffic directing mom who in turn yelled at the kids to stay in one spot, away from the oversized vehicle. 

In contrast, my immediate neighbours carefully eased a new-to-them RV into place beside me on the first try. The family of five hadn’t fought yet, but being from Salt Spring were only in their first hour of the camping holiday. 

Aside from the neighbours – both party animals and young families make great weekend friends – there are always visitors (both neighbours and visitors are also handy for those times you need to use the facilities). At Bere Point Regional Park near Sointula, I shared a meal with a mouse, the tiny fearless creature crawling up my jean leg as I snacked on breakfast for supper (camping alone means eating what you want when you want). And once, though I have no proof, I’m sure a bear made an overnight stop at my Marble River campsite near Port Alice. 

Though I enjoyed it, I wouldn’t recommend either remote location for a single female overnight (cell phone service was spotty at best). This summer I chose a spot in the Cowichan Valley providing a safer solo venue and giving family the opportunity to drop by for a visit. I opted for a campground that was wooded and private like the provincial offerings of my childhood. But a short walk exposed a country store, swimming pool, arcade and mini golf (with the rising prices of government sites, we all might as well enjoy the security and amenities of private enterprise). Consequently, guests came on a daily basis. 

On day two, with the pool beckoning, my guests and I scarfed down lunch sans fire. We decided to wait until after swimming to light it because really, what’s the point of lighting a fire only to add water and stir and hour later? While the visiting toddler happily stuffed uncooked marshmallows into his mouth, his mom toasted them jokingly over a Bic lighter. 

Christine van Reeuwyk is a reporter with the Peninsula News Review.

reporter@peninsulanewsreview.com