equipment, or through hiring it, the total expense can be far less than the cost of
hotels. But, contrary to a popular assumption, it is far from being the only one,
or even the GREatest. The man who manoeuvres carelessly into his five shillings
worth of space at one of Europe's myriad permanent sites may find himself
bumping a Bentley. More likely, Ford Consul will be hub to hub with Renault
or Mercedes, but rarely with bicycles made for two.
That the equipment of modern camping becomes yearly more sophisticated is
an entertaining paradox for the cynic, a brighter promise for the hopeful traveller
who has sworn to get away from it all. It also provides--and some student sociolo-
gist might care to base his thesis upon the phenomenon--an escape of another
kind. The modern traveller is often a man who dislikes the Splendide and the
Bellavista, not because he cannot afford, or shuns, their meterial comforts, but
because he is afraid of them. Affluent he may be, but he is by no means sure what,
to tip the doorman or the chambermaid. Master in his own house, he has little
idea of when to say boo to a maitre d'hotel.*
From all such fears camping releases him. Granted, a snobbery of camping
itself, based upon equipment and techniques, already exists, but it is of a kind
that, if he meets it, he can readily understand and deal with. There is no superior
'they' in the shape of managements and hotel hierarchies to darken his holiday
days.
To such motives, yet another must be added. The contemporary phenomenon
of motor-car worship is to be explained not least by the sense of independence
and freedom that ownership entails. To this pleasure camping gives an exquisite
refinement.
From one's own front door to home or foreign hills or sands and back again,
everything is to hand. Not only are the means of arriving at the holiday paradise
entirely within one's own command and keeping, but the means of escape from
holiday hell (if the beach proves too crowded, the local weather too inclement)
are there, outside--or, as likely, part of--the tent.
Idealists have objected to the practice of camping, as to the packaged tour,
that the traveller abroad thereby denies himself the opportunity of getting to
know the people of the country visited. Insularity and self-containment, it is
argued, go hand in hand. The opinion does not survive experience of a popular
Continental camping place. Holiday hotels tend to cater for one nationality of
visitors especially, sometimes exclusively. Camping sites, by contrast, are highly
cosmopolitan. Granted, a preponderance of Germans is a characteristic that.
seems common to most Mediterranean sites; but as yet there is no overwhelm-
ingly specialized patronage. Notices forbidding the open-air drying of clothes,
or the use of water points for car washing, or those inviting 'our camping friends'
to a dance or a boat trip are printed not only in French or Italian or Spanish,
but also in English, German and Dutch. At meal times the odour of sauerkraut
vies with that of garlic. The Frenchman's breakfast coffee competes with the
Englishman's bacon and eggs.
Whether the remarkable growth of organized camping means the eventual
death of the more independent kind is hard to say. Municipalities naturally want
to secure the campers' site fees and other custom. Police are wary of itinerants
who cannot be traced to a recognized camp boundary or to four walls. But most
probably it will all depend upon campers themselves: how many heath fires they
cause, how much litter they leave, in short, whether or not they wholly alienate
landowners and those who live in the countryside. Only good scouting is likely
to preserve the freedoms so dear to the heart of the eternal Boy Scout.
