Part of what I love about Sierra Rec is that it gives me an excuse to always be testing something outdoors. Whether it’s backpacking gear deep in the Sierra, trying a new piece of equipment at a local campground, or experimenting with ways to make family camping easier, every trip becomes a bit of a field test.
This summer, I’m spending time with the Napier SUV Tent as I explore whether vehicle-based camping fits this season of life. Less minimalist truck camping. More comfortable basecamp adventures. More opportunities to share the outdoors with family and friends.
But this trip wasn’t really about the tent.
I had returned to Central Oregon to pick up my Jeep after our move to Washington. Since I was back home, Dad and I decided to sneak away for a simple overnight campout in some of the old hunting country near where I grew up.
Nothing fancy.
A campfire. A couple of drinks. Some old hunting stories. A night under the stars.
Honestly, the kind of summer evening that used to happen all the time.
Friday morning disappeared the way summer days often do. We tinkered around the house, packed the Jeep, and before we knew it, it was already 2 p.m. Fortunately, our destination was less than an hour away. We’d still have the entire evening to relax around camp.
As we drove off Highway 97 and onto Crescent Cutoff Road toward the old Crider Ringo area, our first thought was finding one of the river spots we’d used years ago. The Little Deschutes River winds quietly through this part of Central Oregon, and I remembered a meadow nearby that had always made for an easy overnight camp.
It’s funny how time changes things.
It had probably been twenty years since we hunted this area regularly. Sure enough, the meadow we had in mind was now fenced off and marked as private property.
I hate seeing that.
Still, it wasn’t enough to ruin the evening.
We continued farther toward the Cascade Lakes Highway, driving roads filled with memories. Along the way, we noticed the wind beginning to stir through the pines, but nothing that seemed concerning.
Eventually, we came across an old rock pit overlooking the Cascade Range and sprawling lava beds below. The view was spectacular.
We found a flat spot and looked at each other.
“Yeah,” I said. “This’ll work.”
A campfire, a couple of drinks, and this view? The evening still had all the ingredients of a perfect summer campout.
We pulled out the Napier SUV Tent and started setting up.
That’s when the weather decided to remind us who was really in charge.
What we hadn’t noticed over the ridge was the dark line of clouds rolling in from the northwest. As we unfolded the footprint and started assembling the poles, the wind arrived all at once.
If you’ve spent enough time outdoors, you know exactly the kind of wind I’m talking about.
Not a gentle breeze.
The kind that suddenly makes you question every decision you’ve made over the last ten minutes.
Dad and I have camped in all kinds of conditions over the years. Rain. Snow. Cold mornings during hunting season.
But this was supposed to be easy.
As we connected the four main poles and started pulling the tent into position, we realized our first mistake.
In our rush to beat the weather, we had forgotten to stake down the corners.
Almost immediately, one side of the tent lifted into the air and folded itself over the Jeep.
Let’s just say a few choice words were exchanged.
I ran for the stakes while Dad held onto the tent for dear life.
Together, we managed to secure the four corners back to the ground.
Then we discovered problem number two.
The ground was hard as concrete.
And somehow, I had forgotten to bring a hammer.
Of course.
As another gust rolled through and the tent threatened to take flight again, Dad searched through the Jeep looking for anything that could drive stakes into the stubborn volcanic soil.
I stood there holding onto the tent and finally laughed.
“You know what?” I said. “Food trucks in La Pine and a beer sound pretty good.”
Dad didn’t argue.
Truthfully, sleeping on the ground isn’t as appealing to him as it once was. And if I’m being honest, the point of this trip had never really been about testing a tent or proving we could still rough it like we did twenty years ago.
It was about spending some time together.
The Napier tent didn’t fail us.
If anything, I failed the tent.
I skipped one of the most important setup steps and wasn’t prepared for changing conditions. That’s not on the gear. That’s on me.
Sometimes experience teaches you new lessons.
Sometimes it simply reminds you of old ones.
So we packed everything back into the Jeep.
We headed into La Pine, found food trucks, grabbed a couple of beers, and spent the evening swapping hunting stories anyway.
Later that night, we each slept comfortably in our own beds.
The wind won.
But I don’t think we lost.
Because the older I get, the more I realize that camping isn’t always about enduring uncomfortable conditions just because you can.
It’s about slowing down.
Sharing stories.
Spending time with the people who matter.
The campfire simply looked a little different that night.
The Napier SUV Tent will get another chance later this summer during family campouts and easier weekends outdoors.
But this trip offered a good reminder.
The outdoors rarely goes according to plan.
And sometimes, the best adventures are the ones that teach us when to laugh, adapt, and appreciate the company we’re keeping along the way.
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