Worst Wild Camp Ever

[Joe.B]

I ended up stuck in Plymouth this weekend having not finished work early enough to make it back to Newcastle (by train) before dawn.  It seemed likely that this would happen so I was prepared for a weekend away from home and equipped with a bike and camping gear.

I had a couple of ideas for a weekend ride but settled on the Devon C2C.  Arriving in Barnstable on the last train before heading to Tesco’s for supplies I set off along the coast in search of somewhere to sleep. 

Three or four miles out and by now around 23:00 I found what seemed like an adequate spot at a picnic area.  Not an ideal spot but it did seem both quiet and secluded and importantly there wasn’t another soul to be seen.  I figured that first people to appear would be early dog walkers but as I intended on being packed up first thing that wasn’t a problem.  Anyway the night went like this:

23:45   Tent is pitched and I’m sat on a picnic bench finishing my cuppa when a car comes down the track and parks in a small car park about 100 meters away, soon followed my another one; great, I’ve stopped at a dogging site.  They can’t see me as I’m hidden by a mass of undergrowth separating my pitch from the carpark.

00:10   3 cars arrive together but stop short of the car park where the first 2 cars are still parked.  Teenagers get out and creep up on the doggers before banging on cars and shouting surprise.  Doggers leave rather rapidly, teenagers remain and are now highly amused.

00:30   Bloody teenagers are still there, though they are unaware of me I’m reluctant to settle into the tent while they remain.  They are not doing any harm and seem like quite a mild mannered bunch.  After another 5 minutes 2 of the cars leave, 1 car remains and the young couple it contained have moved to the other end of the picnic area for a romantic evening.  They are still unaware of me and seem harmless so I settle down.

01:10   The other two cars return.  Young occupants prat around in the undergrowth not more than 40 meters from me yet still fail to notice me (now out of the tent and sat on the bench) watching them.  15 minutes later they leave, young couple on the other side on me still remain.  I settle down again.

02:30   I awake to the sound of nearby voices as the young couple wander closer to my position.  They notice my tent and after exclaiming surprise state that they should return to the other end of the picnic area so as not to disturb me.  Can’t grumble that that.

04:00   Awoken by footsteps and voices, defiantly not teenagers.  Turns out to be three blokes out for a bit of early morning fishing.  Thankfully they are just as considerate as the young teenage couple and before I can even unzip my sleeping bag they have decided to move further down the sea wall so as not to disturb me.

06:00   Power boat and water-skier turn up, noisy enough as it is but then they decide to play loud music as they race up and down the estuary. Deliberately to annoy the anglers it seems.

07:00   First dog walker arrives though I’ve already packed up and in the process of dunking a cereal bar in my tea. 

I found a lovely spot in a hay meadow for Saturday night but then realised that there was a pub with a C&C Certified Site attached less than a kilometre away, which seemed rather appealing.  Happily it was deadly quiet when I crawled into my bag at 21:30 and stayed like that all night.

Anyway I figure that I won’t be only person here who as picked an awful spot for the night, anyone else have a similar (or worse) experience?

[Pedaldog.]

At least you weren't bored!

[Thing2]

You need to make your own entertainment in Barnstaple, there's not much to do (as one who was born there, and is married to one who lived there for 18 years).

[Oscar's dad]

Great story! 

[Kim]

An actual dogging story on YACF and rogerzilla doesn't appear to have noticed   


(I'm not sure if human disturbances really qualify it for worst ever status, thobut, especially as none of them threatened you with a shotgun or anything.  Seems to me it needs more weather, insects, quicksand, BEARS or whatever.  Someone must be able to oblige...)

[andrew_s]

My worst was in Suffolk. I found a nice pub, with a nice quiet field about 1/4 mile up a dead end road to lay out my bivvy bag in, checked it out, and went to the pub.
Unfortunately, when inside, I wasn't paying attention, and at closing time, I went out to find that it as (a) very dark, and (b) absolutely tipping down. It turns out it's not possible to get your bivvy bag out, get you sleeping bag out and into the bivvy bag, and me undresed and into the sleeping bag without getting fairly soaked (sleeping bag too). The rain (and associated thunder) stopped at about 2 am, and I gave up, packed up, and left at about 5.
The moral is to always ensure that you've some sort of shelter in addition to the bivvy bag, such as a small tarp.

Others include...

bivvy bag: in the A65 underpass at Clapham. It rained, and it turns out the underpass does double duty as a flood relief channel. I was woken up by cold feet, and found that the river had overflowed out of the adjacent tunnel, and was now flowing round my feet.

bivvy bag: poking my nose out in the morning to find a very big bull grazing about 5 yards off (I retreated back inside and waited until it was the other end of the field, then threw everything over the wall and followed it, smartish).

tent: spending half the night listening to the wolves howling just outside the tent, definitely not getting up for a pee. (Probably coyotes, and maybe 1/4 mile off, but someone's only got to suggest wolves to keep you inside.)

I've had worse by way of noisy neighbours on a campside than with wild camping - a village festival with fireworks etc 10 pm-2 am (France), people playing the bongos until 3 am (Barge, Honeystreet)

[Oscar's dad]

I've only done a tiny bit of bivvying but would like to do more so your tales are quite educational!

[Cudzoziemiec]

I've had worse by way of noisy neighbours on a campside than with wild camping - a village festival with fireworks etc 10 pm-2 am (France), people playing the bongos until 3 am (Barge, Honeystreet)

Been there, heard that! (And the dogs running wild and the firelighters thrown on the already lit barbecues and... oh, just never going back there!)

[Kim]

I've had worse by way of noisy neighbours on a campside than with wild camping - a village festival with fireworks etc 10 pm-2 am (France), people playing the bongos until 3 am (Barge, Honeystreet)

Been there, heard that! (And the dogs running wild and the firelighters thrown on the already lit barbecues and... oh, just never going back there!)

Funnily enough, I was thinking of that one too as soon as bongos were mentioned.   

https://yacf.co.uk/forum/index.php?topic=91360.msg1917833#msg1917833 refers.  I'd rather take my chances with rabid earwigs.

[Joe.B]

An actual dogging story on YACF and rogerzilla doesn't appear to have noticed   


(I'm not sure if human disturbances really qualify it for worst ever status, thobut, especially as none of them threatened you with a shotgun or anything.  Seems to me it needs more weather, insects, quicksand, BEARS or whatever.  Someone must be able to oblige...)

Well ok, ‘worst wild camp ever’ might be overstating it a little. Perhaps ‘most mildly annoying while also somewhat entertaining wild camp ever’ would be a better though not quite as catchy a title.

[CrinklyLion]

Not wild camping, but who takes a didgeridoo camping.  A didgeridoo.  Seriously.  It still makes me grumpy to remember it and that was back in the day when I actually rode a bike and everything.

[andrewc]

Not wild camping, but who takes a didgeridoo camping.  A didgeridoo.  Seriously.  It still makes me grumpy to remember it and that was back in the day when I actually rode a bike and everything.

I seem to recall one of our number taking a didgeridoo on the Dun Run....

[Kim]

[CrinklyLion]

That was even further back in the mists of time, when I was known to occasionally ride a bike something approximating to A Long Way.... but no bugger was trying to sleep in a tent a few feet away on that occasion!

[andrewc]

That was even further back in the mists of time, when I was known to occasionally ride a bike something approximating to A Long Way.... but no bugger was trying to sleep in a tent a few feet away on that occasion!

If you can cope with a YACF snorers chorus then a didgeridoo shouldn't even register!

[Mr Larrington]

August 1985. Up a French Alp. Ravens.  All.  Bloody.  Night.

[spesh]

August 1985. Up a French Alp. Ravens.  All.  Bloody.  Night.

Quoth Mr. Larrington the next morning: Nevermore.

[Asterix, the former Gaul.]

A few; recently it was mosquitos.  We were cycling in the Alps and as far as we could see this town had only one campsite a few kms outside.  Quite overgrown and we were almost the only campers.  Not long after we'd pitched, we realized it had the largest mosquitos I've ever seen seen, like small helicopters and just as loud.  Our insect repellent didn't seem to bother them in the slightest.

On our arrival we had been greeted by a cat with a magnificent fur coat of great density.  We followed its example and piled on as much clothing as possible including our cycling gloves.  Despite the warm evening we were dressed like polar explorers.  After a hastily cooked meal and wash we beat a retreat into our tents.  Luckily we were tired enough not to worry about an early night.

I have had a quite few all-night disco neighbours, French, August, seaside blah, blah, but I carry excellent earplugs.     

[TPMB12]

Water in the downhill / foot end of the tent up to the mesh part of the sidewall. OK, strange I thought but quickly explained when I opened the tent door, put my boots on then stood up. Instantly I sank into the grass which turned out to be poking out of over boot height standing water. Run off from the two craggy sides of an excellent wild camp site.

Or a very late and desperate pitch in a low level, Lakeland field not knowing what livestock was in it. Particularly bad because it's near stagnant water with associated midge/fly/horsefly issues.

Lakeland camp with clouds of midges so thick and swarming on the mesh inner door that a stick of autan repellent could be used to draw shapes in the midge layer. BTW can you imagine how itchy a calf muscle covered with over 50 individual bites can be? Well add in the fact I stopped counting midge bites having just looked at the calf muscle area. Not bad for the less than 10 minutes needed to boil water for dehydrated meal pack.

Storm force winds with associated horizontal heavy rain on a mountain top? At least my tarp fared better than the nearby Hilleberg atko. I even got a decent sleep due to a good set of ear plugs.

My pet hate though is campsites with groups of family.members/friends chatting away all night long apart from the musical interludes. So one or more of your group plays guitar, others think they have good rhythm and prove they don't on a set of bongos. Then add in the fact they're nice wholesome family songs of the likes of that 70s BBC kids show where a man plays guitar while they both sing children's songs. Seriously, adults playing 70s kids songs into the night when their kids were well tucked up. Our revenge was a 5am wake up call from our toddler! Hehehe! I didn't prod him neither, it was his call.

[Basil]

I've never had any bad experiences compared to those related above.  The only incidents worth relating are:
Once lifted the bike over a dry stone wall and pitched on a nice area between the wall and a big bushy thing.  Woke up to find I was camping in someone's front garden.  Luckily, hidden from the house by the large shrub and waking early, I departed undetected.
And, not bike related, while hitch hiking through Italy with a gf, being young and inexperienced, we found ourselves walking along a quiet road in total darkness.  As a large area of grass appeared over the road so we wandered over onto it and set up the tent to await the morning.   I awoke to be amazed at the volume of traffic noise and hooting etc.
We'd managed to pitch the tent in the middle of a large roundabout on the outskirts of Turin.  And it was now rush hour.

Other than that, no matter how secluded a spot you think you've found, there will always be a dog walker at an astonishingly early hour.

[CAMRAMan]

Not wild camping, but crap camping. A group of us went to the Long Itchington beer festival when it was good. We pitched up my mate's mahoosive tent; the sort that has a central vestibule with sleeping compartments either side. He tucked the side tenty bits inside the groundsheet unbeknown to the rest of us.

Off we went and got extremely inebriated. Naturally it pissed down biblically. The groundsheet proved to be waterproof inasmuch as it retained the water flowing down the side of the tent very effectively and formed a lovely big pool of rainwater that we had to paddle through or fall over into given our state of refreshment. My brother particularly made the most of the facility.

I had my second worst ever hangover the next day which did not add to the damp/sodden ambience

[Phil W]

It's 1987 and about 2 weeks before my final University exams.  It's been a mad few weeks of revision and just need to get away for a weekend.  Find a notice on one of the boards about a camping trip to Snowdonia.   So we put our names down. 

Friday arrives. We pack our OS map of Snowdonia, borrow a tent and load up our rucksacks and soon enough we are in a mini bus to Wales. Something seems not quite right as we turn off the A5 and head south near Shrewsbury.  An enquiry reveals the organiser has decided to go to Mid Wales despite the notice definitely saying Snowdonia.  Don't worry it's all the same he says. Well yes, apart from the fact that now we don't have a map for the area where we are now going. 

We arrive in a village in mid Wales and it is tipping it down.  We go into a pub and almost get beaten up by the Welsh locals. Surviving that it's times to pitch the tent.  We ask where the campsite is, to which the reply is, oh we are wild camping up there.  Said organiser pointing into the air full of wind and rain and darkness.

We trek up a rough path up a mountain side, getting lashed by the wind and rain.  Eventually the organiser says this is it.  This being a rough side of a mountain, exposed to the elements, and no sign of any flat ground anywhere.  We split off in ones and twos in various directions looking for somewhere flat to pitch our tents.  Eventually we find a flattish bit of ground and pitch the tent we've never seen before, getting soaked by the rain and chilled by the wind.     

We find out the tent is too small for the both of us and our rucksacks. So the rucksacks are dropped outside in bin bags.  My mate is also 6'4" and too long for the tent so we can't zip the door shut.   We spend the night shivering, my mates feet sticking out the door and water blowing in.   

Somehow we've managed to sleep, waking up in a puddle in the bottom of the tent, at first light.   After struggling to get out the tent we take in our surroundings.  We've managed to pitch our tent on an island in the middle of a stream.  Due to the constant rain overnight the stream is more like a river and there are raging torrents of water running around our position. 

We take the tent down and remove our boots to try and keep them dry (relatively ha ha) ) whilst we cross the torrents of water.  My mate manages to drop one of his boots whilst crossing and it is washed away never to be seen again.  I mis step exiting and fall flat on my face into a bog. We try and light the stove to make some tea to get warm. The stove won't light in the rain, so we abandon that idea. 

Cold, wet, hungry, mate missing one of his boots; we decide to descend back down the mountainside. Of course we don't have a map and have difficulty locating the path from the night before. We squelch through tussocky, boggy wet ground as we descend.  Eventually we find the path and descend to the village where the minibus is parked.  My mate is able to get some cheap workmen's boots from an iron mongers in the village.   

After a breakfast and lunch in the village café we begin to feel better and in the afternoon go for a walk round some forestry we can see on another hill side above the village.  Night falls again but by this time we've located a bothy on the upper edge of the forest.  We decide to sleep there, rather than pitch the sodden mess of a tent,  as once again it's raining.  We have a somewhat drier night and are able to get the stove working for hot tea and food.

On the Sunday a group of miserable students gather for the drive back to York. 

[Kim]

There we go.  I knew YACF wouldn't disappoint.

[andrew_s]

Another one, more entertaining than worst, was wild camped on the Col d'Aphanize, on the D117 ESE of St-Jean-Pied-de-Port, listening to the Pic de Behorleguy (200m up, 700m away) getting an absolute pasting from the lightning for a couple of hours. That was back when most tents were upright poles, like lightning conductors, rather than hoops.
Fun was had by some telling quips like "if you are struck whilst stepping over a fence, are you a kebab?". Those of a nervous disposition responded by retreating to the cars (we were there for the Gfre).

[JonJo]

Glen Etive where the midge clouds were so dense you could feel them going up your nose as you breathed in.

Durness (crap camping) where we'd left the dog's bowl between tent & flysheet. A metallic 'ding' woke me at 2:30. It turned out to be a gull cleaning the dog's bowl but it panicked when it heard me moving around and tried to take off in the gap between tent & flysheet. The resulting pandemonium woke almost everyone on the site.