Why We Love Lightweight Camping!

Here’s a little poem to celebrate being “lightweight”:

The Lightweight’s Lament (and Love)

My backpack is a masterclass in surgical restraint, 

Though my knees, upon the uphill, offer up a loud complaint. 

I’ve trimmed away the margins, I’ve cut the labels off, 

At the man with the massive cool-box, I can’t help but slightly scoff.

For I have the Freedom! To pitch upon a dime, 

Unless the ground is rocky—then I’ll be there for some time. 

“No planning!” is my motto, as I dash out through the door, 

Then realize I’ve forgotten… well, the pegs to hold the floor.

There’s an elegance in eating with a single spork of grey, 

While using my one cooking pot in a "multi-purpose" way. 

It’s a bowl! It’s a mug! It’s a basin for my face! 

I try not to think of hygiene as I move from place to place.

The views are quite majestic, the nature is sublime, 

I’m woken by a blackbird at a truly hideous time. 

And cosiness? I have it! I’m a nylon-wrapped cocoon, 

Doing "Tent-Yoga" to change my socks by the light of a pale moon.

But the camaraderie is real, when the stoves begin to hiss, 

It’s a circle of enthusiasts in outdoor-version bliss. 

We compare our carbon fibre and our ultra-lightweight stakes, 

While debating which dehydrated meal gives the fewest belly aches.

We don’t need a palace, or a van with leather seats, 

Just a patch of grass, some conversation, and a pub for local treats. 

So here’s to the ALC, and the tents that keep us small

For when you carry very little, you somehow have it all.