For me, planning the camping trip was the fun part - figuring out what to bring that could be cooked for each meal enjoyably, deliciously and safely (hamburgers made up in advance, already seasoned; chicken already cleaned in ziplocks marinating; steaks seasoned and BBQ-ready; potatoes cleaned and ready for roasting), including extra emergency canned rations in case SOMETHING happeneed and we were stuck for a few extra days, or a nice meal that could be cooked on the little camp stove under the screened tent in case it was raining. Having the stuff to be relatively comfortable (air mattresses of course!), stuff for the kids to do, safety equipment (first aid, drugs, whistles for the kids). Sitting around the campfire at night stuff - marshmallows, brandy. Board games. Planning for fun and food. And I thought it was a good lesson for the kids in "survival," food safety, and preparedness.
One time, the kids went off to the stream near our campsite to look for salamanders and dig with their shovels, and dug up a hornets nest. They came screaming back into camp, with yellow jackets stinging them. After discovering that my maternal instincts COULD (just barely) overcome my fear of wasps, and getting the wasps knocked off of them, I got out my first aid stuff - got the stingers out, got ice on the stings, and dosed the kids with the benadryl I had brought with us. Watched them carefully for anaphylaxis of course, ready to jump in the van and run the 45 min down to the nearest town, but they were fine - and slept very well that night. I was very proud of my preparedness (and that I could run TOWARDS the kids with wasps attached, although my very core wanted to run in the opposite direction!).
Charles didn't like sleeping on the ground, even on the air mattress. He didn't like the outhouse situation. He didn't like the feeling of having to be vigilant at all times about the dangers (both animal and human) around us. He didn't like all the work involved in doing the routines of living - hauling the huge cooler in and out of the bear boxes. He just didn't "get" going on vacation where you were working harder than you do at home. He didn't grow up on luxury, and his extended family lives in one of the poorer parts of Virginia, in self-built old houses - he doesn't see roughing it as something enjoyable, but rather something to avoid.
