Farewell old friend: my tent is spent!
My longtime adventure sidekick, HQ and home has died. Or is soon to be put down. Whatever. It's still sad.
Right! Driving a large chunk of the South Island right before starting a new job apparently takes it out of you, so I didn’t get to post this when I had hoped. A lot of the ‘realtime’ element of this intro has now passed, but I hope it’s something all the same. Actually, isn’t anything something? No matter… here we go:
I’m currently travelling between Queenstown and Tasman’s Ruby Coast, after two weeks spent fossicking for the golden stuff and visiting Zoe. She just got a job in the ‘Royal capital of the homeless service worker’. I’m writing this at the domain campsite in Waikari, Hurunui District, Canterbury. It’s a pleasant council/community affair that in the old times would’ve required a cash payment in an honesty box. It’s 2024, though, remember? That means I had to purchase a plastic ‘KiwiCash’ fob for $5 from the hotel in Amberley. I then had to download the app, tie in my new fob with an account, then top up the account with some actual Kiwi cash, paying 42 cents for the privilege. Only then was I allowed to tag in for the night1 at the camp’s ‘digital honesty box’ and take a shower2. Camping, the complicated way, eh?
It feels worlds away from the delightfully simple process of throwing up your fabric in a wild place and bedding down. And if you think it stops the freeloading non-payers then think again: there are three other people staying who I believe have not paid. They might have reached for their wallets if this place accepted actual cash money.
So, my tent died the other day. My adventure sidekick for more than a decade and, more recently, my home has sustained too many injuries. I only have to touch it and it seems to disintegrate like the wicks on those gas-powered camping lights. This has led to the difficult decision to retire it. What will become of it? Can we find it a second life? I'm keen for your ideas later.
To fully appreciate what I mean when I say ‘tent’ and ‘decade’, we need a metaphor to accurately illustrate how much of today’s ‘tent’ is the same ‘tent’ I bought in December 2013. No metaphor better provides for this than ‘Trigger’s Broom’, from aged British sitcom Only Fools and Horses. Here’s a clip:
Yes, that's right. My Kathmandu 3-person Boreas luxury-sized hiking tent has had two new inners, one new outer, one new pole set, countless replacement pole pieces and numerous peg replacements. Some pub landlords might conclude that it can't be the same tent. In spirit, though, it is wholly the same tent. Admittedly, I never got round to replacing the interior clothes lines I fashioned from string in the loft and used to hang my wet gear on during the epic bike ride. But, to me, it is still the same tent.
It was the same tent I shivered the night away in at the South Island’s most southerly campground, Curio Bay; it was the same tent that got battered by ferocious Wairarapa winds at Akitio township; and it was the same tent that narrowly missed flooding when a squall brought dark clouds over the camp at Ohope Beach. Security had to open up the TV room for other campers to sleep in that night.
A selective history
December 2013 - bought this roomy bug-shaped house using both a gift voucher and a Kathmandu sale combined. It came on a super-hot summer road-trip around Northland.
July 2014 - I pitched it at Northland’s Trounson DOC campsite, given legendary status for its hot showers included in the price. A group of my friends called ‘Camp Club’ had decided to experiment with the concept of winter camping. It stood up to a crisp, cold first night and a deluge of rain the second night.
January 2015 - I strapped it, along with a plethora of other overweight items, to the back of my bike and set off to cycle the coastline. A pole snapped as I travelled around the Wairarapa coast. Kathmandu sorted replacements for me, but I’d have to make it to Christchurch. Another cracked in Seddon and an older Kiwi couple on a 4WD tour helped me lash the snaps with some super-strong tape they had. Fortunately, the repair held until I was able to collect my poles from The Palms mall in Christchurch.
September 2015 - Kathmandu gave me a new inner after the floor started sucking up water from the ground and transferring it to me while I slept.
June 2017 - Out shopping for bargains, I stumbled across an entire tent of spares at Dressmart, Onehunga, priced at $150. I snapped it up, knowing an entire tent of spares is as good as a new tent.
July 2018 - Kathmandu messaged me on Insta saying they loved this pic of it and asked if they could print it and use it in a collage in stores. Here is my actual reply: “Hi Kath, all good by me. Thanks! Dunc”. Kath! Chortle. Apparently it happened, though I never saw it in store.
June 2022 - I moved to Pukenui, again in Northland, and moved into the tent full-time. I had a job on an avocado farm which was paying our board at the local holiday park. Winter win!
July 2022 - Realising I had accidentally moved into the older tent, I pulled the newer tent from my mates Simon and Jane’s Auckland loft and moved into that in Pukenui instead. Aside from keeping me drier, it made little difference as winter storm after winter storm battered Te Aupōuri Peninsula - which is only about ten kilometres wide - splitting more poles and ripping more holes. I lived in it for nearly four months.
January 2024 - The tent became our home yet again as Zoe got a job in the hot, dry Tasman township of Tapawera. There it sat for most of the month, being subjected to a toxic mix of New Zealand ultraviolet and fresh plum jam from the arse of the camp’s resident kererū. It was that what finished it!
What’s next?
Should I just chuck these multiple layers of plastic fabric in the bin? Or at least contact Kathmandu and see what they recommend regards recycling? However, I feel the need to enshrine part of it by repurposing it.
A part of me believes I could take to it with scissors and a sewing kit and turn it into a nice bag. However, a bigger part of me doesn’t believe that would turn out very nice. It would probably end up looking more like a doll conjured up in some alternate reality, where Freddy Krueger’s hobbies included cross-stitch.
What about ‘demoting’ it to cooking shelter? All this plan needs is a $10 sheet of polythene from Mighty 10s secured to the top and its life could go on as protection from the rain and a summer sweatbox. Means carting around an otherwise useless tent, though, doesn’t it?
As I mentioned, I’m keen to hear your ideas for the remnants of this little living structure. What should I do with it? What can it become? Comments are open to everybody.
In the meantime, I’ve spent a little time figuring out how or if I might fit my 187cm frame in the back of my Toyota Aqua to sleep. Curled up, side-sleeping it’s a go! I’ve also been trawling the second hand markets, looking for good car camping tents. The job is picking apples in Appleby for the next few weeks and I don’t want that violent UV to trash my hiking tent as well.
Invest in UV-protection for your canvas homes, people. Or don’t leave them in the Pacific sun for months!
$10 KiwiCash, so $12.71 real cost if you include the $5 fob.
$3 KiwiCash, so $3.81 using the above ratio.
It's funny how you get attached to old stuff. I have some old Icebreaker socks, stretched, faded, with a decent hole. They are beyond ready to be retired but realised they have been to both Mt Everest (the Tibetan base, not the top) and Antarctica. That's on top of numerous NZ walks/rides and daily around the house for about a decade. Thinking of framing them!