I’ve been spolied when it comes to camp gadgets. Over the past few years I’ve done a television talk show circuit during which I show off the latest camp gear.
Before the interviews I head to the local outdoor store to borrow the season’s hottest items and then go on air to discuss the pros, cons and absurdities of everything from new mosquito repellent to solar radios to cold fusion-powered lanterns.
One morning a few years ago I arrived at a studio with a pack full of non-essentials—including a device that lets women urinate while standing up. The female co-host looked over the gear before the show and asked a few questions, particularly about the plastic tube-shaped fake phallus, called the Peemate.
The male host, however, hadn’t bothered. He walked on set just as we went live, made some arrogant remarks about how silly camping was, grabbed the Peemate and asked what it was.
“It’s a whistle. Give it a try,” I said. He did, and his co-host fell over laughing. Almost every talk show in the country phoned me the next day asking me to be on their show—provided I bring the Peemate.
To me, a camp gadget is a luxury item you can do without—but would rather not. A camp chair even qualifies, as long as it has a backrest and a cup holder and allows you to sit high up off the cold, wet ground.
I teased him about his chair—until he let me sit in it. He had to tip me out.
A friend once brought a camp chair on a one-month, portage-heavy trip. I teased him nonstop about packing such a bulky item, that is until he let me sit in it for five minutes one evening. He had to tip me out of it.
There’s no sense fighting it. We’ve been trying to increase our comfort and take advantage of the latest wonder of technology since we first went back to the wilderness.
I admire those campers who hold themselves to the primitive approach, but I suspect they have gadget-related jobs and so are desperate for an escape from the high-tech world. Or perhaps they are atoning for something.
Of course, it’s possible to get carried away. I never want to skewer a marshmallow by the light of a laptop. But if you follow the simple rule, “If you want to use it, you carry it,” we should be able to keep things below the gunwales.
This article first appeared in the Fall 2008 issue of Canoeroots Magazine.
