After two nights spent camping with friends, it was time to fledge. We broke camp the morning of August 14 and, as we were in the final stages of leaving, I got my final lesson on camping in water-starved California. A fire broke out just behind our campsite, presumably started by campers that backed up onto the same small gully, and we had to make a run for it. The fire was quickly put out, but it sent a clear warning—the West is a tinder box this year!

Still, armed with burgeoning confidence, The Shroom and I traveled north and hit the first Walmart I could find with a list of forgotten items, such as sun screen, a camp lantern, a knife and much more. Three hours later, after wandering around like a brain-washed cult member throwing God-knows-what into the cart, I realized I was procrastinating and needed to get on with it—my next campground awaited. (Walmart really is a genius devil—I bought things that I never knew existed, but felt I needed for the increasingly bizarre what-if scenarios I kept conjuring up.)

After an hour’s drive on a beautiful coastline, enticing me to stop at every vista point, yet I couldn’t because I had wasted most of the day in the Devil’s lair, I arrived at San Simeon and excitedly set up camp, putting the mats out, organizing my gear, setting up the chair and table, and generally getting the lay of the land (i.e., finding the nearest bathroom, the nearest water source, and sizing up the neighbors). When it was all laid out perfectly, I smugly sat down to appreciate my work. Five minutes later, I thought, “Now what?” So, I grabbed my shoes and went for a hike. By the time I made it back to camp, I was hungry and it was dinnertime. So, I checked out my supplies, which would have made a survivalist proud, and opted for a quesadilla. Twenty minutes later I was having a proper meal, made by me, in a van. There are just so many things to marvel at here: a) I don’t cook. Or, I don’t like to cook; b) I used propane without blowing anything up; and c) Did I mention that I did this with a van?

As the sun dropped, I set about putting together the sleeping area inside the van, which entails several maneuvers that have to be done in a certain order, or one risks taking everything apart again. For example, once the bed is put together, you can’t get to your clothes, so changing into your sleepwear before you put the bed together is crucial, and maybe someday I will get that.

The next evening, after a wonderful day hiking the coast, I was figuring out what to prepare for dinner when a man my age came over and said, “I just have to see inside this thing.” So I gave him a tour of The Shroom and he was impressed. After he left, his girlfriend came over and invited me over for drinks. Hurray—my first camp invite and all because of The Shroom! So there I sat, in someone else’s RV, listening to stories about what lay ahead, as they were on an opposite trajectory.

When I got back to my camp, I hurriedly made myself a quesadilla, roasted up a s’more (okay, maybe two) over some illegally-gotten wood, and went to bed. This camping thing was going to be all right.