I live much of the time in an urban environment with this big computer and indoor plumbing. We have a Tempurpedic foam mattress and a BIG refrigerator. Sophisticated restaurants can easily be walked to and, if we are willing to wait in a long line, a $7 single, small scoop of wonderful hazelnut gelatto can be had around the corner on a hot summer evening.
Though it would be much easier to stay in a motel or rent an RV, as many of my fishing buddies do, my long time fishing partner from the West Coast and my wife as well, are staunch tent campers during the month we spend plying the rivers and streams of the Rocky Mountain country. Sure, it can be truly cold on a late June morning gathering my not so young bones out of the sleeping bag but hot, strong French pressed coffee is soon to improve my state and my partner, known as Mr. Breakfast, will stand over our high BTU two burner unit browning potatoes to celebrate a rasher of smoked pork belly and a brace of hen's eggs with. Fishing clear, cold rivers for wild trout with a dry fly is hard work and on long July days can extend into late twilight. Often we don't get off the water until 11P so we will break in the afternoon for camp chores, early cocktails and a 2" thick rib eye at 5 or 6:O'clock to sustain us through the spinner fall.
Of course, we can't back pack all this plunder so we are un-apologetically "Truck Camping" but most of the richest trout environments are down in the valleys where RXR tracks and roads have provided wheeled access for over a century now. A tent camp enables us to move from river to stream based on CFS, water temperature and reported insect emergences; no reservations required though a data connected Blackberry is helpful. A movable tent camp facilitates exploration of rivers or sections of rivers not previously fished by us, further enhanced by towing a Clackacraft behind the big Chevy as well.
Crawling into the tent, zipping the mosquito netted door and extinguishing the LED lamp, only a thin layer of coated rip-stop nylon taffeta separates us from the weather, the sonorous sounds of the flowing river beside us, the calls of birds and the song of a distant family of coyotes. What was that loud GLUMP of a splash I just heard near the bank-overhanging alder just a few strides away? It is the mystery of that glump as I drift off to sleep in the tent that sustains me during the gray, snow encrusted winter time in the city that is my legal address.
My partner uses a Mountain Hardwear tent and I replaced this old North Face VE25 this year with an MSR Holler