Last summer our family took a long road trip to camp for a week in a beautiful provincial park in the middle of British Columbia. Our trailer backed onto a rushing mountain river and campsites were separated by thick greenery. I had a lot of enthusiasm for this trip and yet, once home I had trouble overcoming the feeling that I had failed as a camper. We had had amenities, the children were all fine, it had been an adventure full of gorgeous scenery and yet… I was so glad to be home.

I didn't grow up camping. When I think of camping, I think only of logistics. What will we cook, what will we pack, how will it be packed, how will it be cooked. How long will things stay fresh, how will our appetites change, what kind of snacks are good, how much can I count on improvisation and what I should have ready for this improvisation. Supposedly, camping is about relaxing. Therefore I'm terrible at camping. Failing the ability to relax felt like failing the ability to breathe.

Then I came across an article by James Somers titled “The Paradox of Going Outside”. I've since read it three times, but this is the line I especially like: “my mistake in Glacier was not in failing to appreciate the high flowers, the playful lives of the squirrels; it was in thinking that such an appreciation would come naturally.” My mistake was in thinking that appreciation would come naturally.

Of course! Look how appreciation for cooking grows with every meal undertaken. Look how appreciation for a well-tended yard grows with every hour spent gardening. I'm not a good camper, but I could become one with practice and repeated experience. It's humbling to be bad at something when others are good at it. It's hard not to let that humiliation turn into disparagement and disdain. I am impatient when in fact appreciation takes patience. James Somers: thank-you!