Aquamens

01–02 August

This was supposed to be a three-day camping trip from 01–03 August. I had completely forgotten that 3 August was a public holiday and only realized it late on 31 July.

I was on a call with my wife when we decided, almost without thinking, to go camping. Sometimes the best decisions aren’t the ones planned months in advance. They’re the ones that quietly appear and simply feel right.

There was no time to waste.

I rushed home, picked up my wife, and we headed to the store. We bought the camping gear we had realized we were missing after our first trip, along with food and drinks. Looking back, it was interesting how much easier packing had become. Experience had quietly replaced uncertainty. We no longer wondered what we might need—we remembered what we wished we had.

We packed everything that night and decided to leave early the next morning.

We arrived at the campground around 2 p.m. As we pulled into our site, a sweet elderly lady was packing up after her stay. We ended up having a lovely conversation while she loaded her car. She shared a few stories about the campground and smiled as she told us that we had one of the best sites there.

Perhaps one of the nicest parts of camping is how strangers seem a little less like strangers. Out there, everyone is simply someone who has come to spend a few quiet days beneath the trees.

We set up the tent, pitched a tarp over the sitting area because rain was in the forecast, and prepared everything for dinner. Afterwards, we walked down to the river and sat there for a long time, talking about life, the future, and whatever else came to mind.

There was something calming about the river. Unlike the still lakes I’d seen before, this water never stopped moving. It reminded me that not everything needs to become calm before it can carry us forward.

That evening we had to retie the tarp after realizing it wasn’t pitched well enough, but eventually everything seemed ready for the night.

It rained.

The tent held perfectly. We stayed warm and dry while the rain drummed softly above us. The tarp, however, didn’t survive nearly as well. By morning it had partially failed, and heavy rain continued to pour. A yellow weather warning had already been issued, with even heavier rainfall expected throughout the day.

I spent some time trying to repair it, but eventually accepted that it wasn’t going to work.

There comes a point when persistence stops being wisdom and becomes stubbornness.

So my wife and I packed our campsite and decided to head home.

A small part of me felt disappointed. It almost felt like we were giving up. But another part understood that camping isn’t about proving something to nature. It’s about learning to live with it. Sometimes the wiser decision is simply to return another day.

We stopped for breakfast on the drive back and took the long, quiet route home.

The trip ended a day earlier than planned, but somehow it didn’t feel unfinished.

Every campsite teaches something different.

This one taught me that preparation matters, experience matters even more, and knowing when to leave is sometimes just as important as knowing when to stay.

I already found myself thinking about the next trip before this one had truly ended. And perhaps that’s how I know I’ve found something worth pursuing.