Growing up as a boy in the 1980s was a much different experience than kids will experience today. No instant gratification, endless online content aimed at youth and television shows on demand. Gone are the Saturday morning cartoons and organic socializing that occurred on playgrounds and baseball fields.
Outdoor experiences for me came in the way of Beavers, Cubs and Scouts Canada. This is where boys would gather and be incentivized to learn navigation, bushcraft and teamwork. My other exposure to outdoor life as a child came with youth summer camps I was shipped off to each summer. One night was assigned as the over night camp out under the stars during the week long stay.
The camp counsellors, who were all between the ages of 14 and 17 would march up to 45 kids deep into the mosquito laden softwoods to sleep under the stars in a lean to. Rain or shine. Some kids would have proper backpacks, but most campers either had their pillow case stuffed with blankets or some resourceful kids would have garbage bags as their luggage of choice for the hour long trek.
The adult me cringes a little bit thinking of what could go wrong and how far we were from any type of adult supervision. The memories of these camp outs, especially under the stars are what has solidified my love for the outdoors. I feel sad todays children will never know the excitement of walking down a tiny path into Crown land to sleep out with your closest 44 buddies.
Leaders and camp counsellors strategically deployed stories of snipes, hermits and spirits to ensure we stay close to home and even the bravest of us would not wander off. Snipes were usually an unaccounted for leader with a military style flashlight complete with a red lens for an eye and a wool army blanket over his head. They would be seen by campers thrashing through the woods at a distance right before bedtime, usually seen after a inconspicuous mention of their existence by an adult. The hermit I was made familiar with was named Gnork (the G is NOT silent). He would never be seen, and only heard around campfires grunting and making inaudible noises in an attempt to speak.
Between the organized camps and those offered by scouting I feel like I developed some skills along the way to give me the confidence needed to enjoy the outdoors for long periods of time with my own family.
Fast forward to the spring of 2012. I don’t have a child yet. I’m getting married in December. I wanted to sell my motorcycle as my mortality was slowly creeping up on me and at the cumulation of one too many close calls I decided it had to go. After I sold it for a few thousand dollars my fiancé began hinting that the proceeds from the sale of my VTR 1000 should go towards the wedding.
Shortly after this discussion I coincidententally located a beauty of a Volkswagen Syncro for sale in New Brunswick. It was a burgundy tin top with some body damage but was for sale at that time for a little more than I had sold my bike for. It was at that time, a great deal. I remember finding it when we were away for the weekend in Isaac’s Harbour with family. I planted the seed there and used the three hour drive back to Halifax to make my pitch. After the conclusion of three hour sales pitch my fiancé was a reluctant participant in the purchase of the Volkswagen.
Much like when a salesperson at the dealership lets the prospective buyer walk away to have a sober second thought, a day or so later as I was planning to go see the rig we had a discussion. My position was that I wanted to purchase the van and build it into a memory maker. My fiancé’s position was that she didn’t want to make such a large purchase so close to the wedding. I was always told the secret to a good relationship is compromise.
So we compromised and I didn’t buy the van.
A month or so later, and after much sulking and regret I found a Vanagon in Charlottetown for less cash. I got up before sunrise and headed towards the island with my Honda Ridgeline and big dreams. I decided to purchase the vehicle and I towed it back home to begin my work.
Since 2012 my 1984 Vanagon Westfalia has been my hobby, my passion and my ticket to adventure. It has been as far south as Washington DC and all over the Maritimes and eastern US. I named the Vanagon “The Shula” and we were best friends.
In 2014 there was another set of feet on the ground who took up much time and effort in his first year. I knew right away this kid was going to love the outdoors, adventure and the smell of campfire as much as I did.
Now I had purpose. A dependent who needed me and his success in life was largely associated to how I perform as a father. Scouting has changed much over the years and does not resemble what I remember and the summer camp I was shipped off to has long closed its doors. Parenting has also shifted to a more hands on endeavor.
My son’s first few years of camping consisted mostly of the Westy in campgrounds, national parks and a few off grid sites. He loved the van more than I did.
With all the cool factor the van brought forth it also couldn’t escape the fact it was an old vehicle kept afloat by my questionable mechanical skills. There was a scary underbelly to Vanagon ownership which kept me from wandering too far from home with my family-much like the snipes and the hermits.
These trips and memories continued in the van until he was five years old and I purchased my third Jeep, well a Gladiator. Shortly after I purchased the Gladiator I sourced a great deal on a roof top tent and noticed much of my acquired gear I used with The Shula was transferable to my new rig. I purchased a generic rack from Princess Auto and modified its height and added panels and latches for securing gear and countless gadgets.
Since then, Roam Wild Overland has happened and I have watched my two worlds collide. I still have the van and treasure the countless friends I have made in that community. I have had the Gladiator for over a year now and enjoy the creature comforts, agility and reliability. The Gladiator is my daily driver and I will be using the van more now that the initial honeymoon stage is over with the Jeep.I feel very fortunate to have two amazing rigs and feel like my spending has stabilized (aside from my addiction to camp cooking gear). Looking back at my outdoors journey, there have been a few droughts of activity-although I don’t remember a minute I didn’t have a backpack, candle lantern or a ground tent as a possession.
I know my little guy loves the outdoors and takes pride in his six year old ability to build, light and maintain a respectable campfire. The skills I am teaching him coupled with that of others he absorbs (shout out to YouTubers Outdoor Boys) he will move forward with the confidence needed to live a life complete with outdoor exposure long after I am gone.
This is my outdoor origin story. What does yours look like?