It must have been a hilarious sight.
Two women wheelbarrowing their bags and an overstuffed suitcase through the muddy fields, slip sliding, with one leading the other slightly hesitantly in the misty rain. After three nights of glamping, we were leaving for civilization. Don’t get me wrong – I love nature. Just not when the jet stream meant for Scotland somehow got lost in southern England, where we were. Having lived in Singapore for so many years, the cold wet weather of hometown Vancouver was less welcoming.
What the hell is glamping, you may ask?
Glamping is…
The word seems so natural that I never even questioned it when I first heard it. Glamourous camping, of course. It’s for people like me who love hiking, nature and even the wilderness, just not peeing in the ground. Even sleeping on the bumpy ground and sharing bathroom facilities is okay with me. That is as long as it is a clean toilet. That’s my achilles heel. Somewhat OCD, I suppose.
This whole glamping trip was last-minute for me. My friend had already booked it for her and her three kids. She graciously invited me when she found out I was looking for a July getaway. Her photos of Feather Down on Facebook looked so great, so relaxing.
The wet weather forecast didn’t faze me so much. The English weather, right? I equipped myself with wellies in Henley beforehand and I felt ready for it all. I had checked out the glamping website and it sounded and looked awesome. It was rustic and rural, so idyllic, with a wood stove and an indoor loo – a perfect farm holiday, as advertised.
When I think of glamping, I think safaris with crisp linen tents and catered services. With Feather Down, I was happy there was an indoor toilet. That was the selling point for me. The Feather Down tents were well-designed, with sturdy wooden floors and strong canvas tenting materials. I wasn’t expected to be pampered, by any means. When we had to wheelbarrow our luggage from the farmhouse to our tent in the fields, I had a moment of clarity. We were “roughing” it. We were on our own. Where were the men? We both had such great survivalist men in our lives before. That thought showed my biases and yes, even some of my struggles with my separation.
Aller Farm, Devon
We glamped at Aller Farm in Devon, run by Nigel and Emma. Leading the way, Emma wheelbarrowed our towels and linens and the rest of us followed, each carrying what we could. The kids were clearly on cloud nine. On the way, we passed by a wood stove for pizzas and a very young calf inside a small pen. Arriving at our tent, we dropped our belongings at the doorway and ran through the tent, checking out everything, oohing and ahhing. All the while, Emma was trying to give us a tour and explain everything to us. Her instructions would later prove useful.
Spending time in nature, without wifi and electricity, was good for us. We all needed to detox and discharge. From work, from school, from the internet, from life. The kids got to play with our two hens, learning how to pick them up. The hens really drew the crowds in (kids really) and when eggs were discovered each day, wow! It was pretty cool. Especially when a six-year old explains to you the difference between a cold and a warm egg. Educational for all of us.
My plan was to run through the fields with the kids, say hello to the farm animals, and do nothing else except laze about with my books. And catch up with my friend, over wine. The reality was a little bit different, mostly because of the weather. We couldn’t run through the fields without getting all muddy and sometimes stuck, which would have been fine, except for the limited wardrobe. The wellies were indeed a useful purpose. And let me tell you, the weather was miserable. No wonder so many people died in the past. (Ok the hygiene back then too.) The cold damp English weather was dreadful.
We did have a few breaks from the downpour. We would be out in the field and we also walked to the local pub for dinner, which the kids LOVED! I did too. One afternoon, it was a drive to a nearby town for coffee and WIFI. On another afternoon my friend and the kids went in search for a missing flashlight, chasing the cows along the way.
And I did get to relax with my books, mostly because by then I was too exhausted to do anything else. Unbeknownst to me, a cold virus was already infiltrating my system and I was feeling run down.
The Home Fire
One big task we had – one on which we spent a lot of time – was getting the fire started. And keeping it going. It was completely new to me and what I realized was it demanded skills – and patience – I sorely lacked. And it was a lot of work. So this is what women did all day long in the olden days, I thought.
The point of the wood-burning stove, for us, was warmth and cooking. The hearth is where the family gathered. My friend actually grew up with a wood-burning stove, for heat, and knew EXACTLY what to do (with some minor tips from our friendly glamping neighbour). She was the breakfast chef and her eggs were darn good!
Glamping at Feather Down turned out to be quite a fun experience. I got to hang out with my friend and her three very cool kids. We also met some rather nice and friendly people, including a Canadian! Small world, eh? And a fantastic dog called Millie.
What I would suggest, though, is an improvement on the loo design. Now, I have a normal-sized adult butt and I had to scoot a fair amount back to pee. The kids, on the other hand… Well, you can imagine the cleaning up the adults had to do. A few times I sat down half-asleep on a wet toilet in the middle of the night.
While I was wheelbarrowing our worldly possessions back to the car, I felt decidedly lighter and more buoyant. The electric charge that slightly numbed my face (from EMF I am sure) was nowhere to be felt. My insane attachment to my computer, Facebook, and whatsapp seemed normalized. I’ve had a nature-cleanse. A digital detox, before it became the wellness trend.
