Stealth Camping

Ken Kifer got it (mostly) right when he argued in favor of stealth camping (not his term) rather than staying in formal campgrounds while on a bike tour. (He was motivated to a large extent by a strong anti-social streak, so one must take his views with a certain skepticism.)

He advocated camping off the road wherever was convenient, thus avoiding the pitfall of having too many miles to reach a camping destination. I have applied the term stealth camping (borrowed from other sources), because this style of camping requires one to be out of sight (and, to use a bad pun, out of site). Whaddaya think this is, Europe? You think you can just camp anywhere along the road. Hah! Socialist.

Here in the US of A, camping along the road is frowned upon. (Actually, it mostly never occurs to us, it's just so obviously wrong, so there's not much frowning.) According to Ken Kifer (and other advocates of the practice), it's quite easy to find a spot along the road that is hidden by vegetation, with enough room for a small tent. (And if you have a camping hammock, all the better!) When you're ready to stop at the end of the day, you keep your eyes open for a good spot, and when you find it, you stop. It requires a little planning, food- and water-wise, and it involves roughing it, personal hygiene-wise.

But the advantage is that you can stop when you're ready. We should have done this outside of Manistique. But we weren't in that mindset, and it would have been a terrible night to experiment with it. (Thunderstorms and torrential rain.) Still, one of the things we were dreading about the campground we were shooting for (90 miles away) was the two-mile ride down the dirt road just to get to it. Most nice campgrounds are not right on the main highway, and even a few miles is a long way at the end of the day.

But you know, in reading Ken Kifer's trip journal of the trip to New England and Canada, the whole trip sounds horrible, particularly the effort to find places to pitch his tent. One night he slept out in the open next to a freeway. Nice.

Maybe the compromise position is to be ready to stealth camp when necessary (that Manistique day, for example), but to have campgrounds in sight as much as possible. Ken Kifer may have thought a shower is a luxury, but really, after a long day, it may be well worth the cost of the campground to take a nice hot shower. That was always the highlight of the evening for me, when we stayed in campgrounds that had showers.

Well, just an idea. I have stealth camped before. (In fact, Jon and I have done it.) Mostly, it was OK. With a camping hammock, it would be much easier, because it would not require flat ground or a clearing of any kind.

Next trip, maybe.

Further reflections: I have learned since posting this that it is officially permitted to camp anywhere on National Forest land (private property included) unless otherwise posted. So that day east of Manistique should not have been a problem at all; we could have picked any open space and set up our tents. Unless the sheriff doesn't know this law.

Cowboy Coffee

I wasn't too worried about food on our semi-circumnavigation of Lake Michigan. I could be fairly content eating convenience store sandwiches for ten days.

But I was worried about coffee. Convenience store coffee is OK now and then, better (just barely) than nothing, but it is nice to have a cup of real (strong) coffee either first thing in the morning or after a long day's ride.

I fretted about this. I am committed to traveling light, and bringing a French-press pot did not seem very light.

But then I stumbled on the concept of "cowboy coffee." (I wish I could remember where in metaverse I found it. Googling "cowboy coffee" will turn it up.) Cowboy coffee is simply coffee made in a pot without filters.

The basic principle of cowboy coffee is that coffee grounds settle if given enough time. The challenge is giving the grounds enough time to settle without letting the coffee get cold. (You can't keep heating it, because the convection currents keep the grounds stirred up.)

I used more water and coffee than normal, to give a little room for sludge at the bottom of the pot. I used six heaping tablespoons for about 1.5 quarts of water (maybe, although I didn't measure carefully--I just filled my pot). This made enough for two large cups of coffee and a little extra to put in Jon's thermos.

Bring the water to a boil (using a catfood can stove, preferably), dump in the coffee, stir it in to be sure the coffee isn't just floating, and then (here's the secret) put the whole pot into some kind of insulator. I used an insulated lunch bag, but since the trip I have fashioned a foam sleeve that should work nearly as well while taking up almost no room. (Traditional cowboys just sink their pot in the sand.)

Then, let the coffee sit. Five minutes? Ten minutes? I don't know. Enough time for the grounds to settle.

Carefully pour the coffee off the top, and voila! Quite good cowboy coffee.