I departed Seattle with the plan to cycle and camp whilst I traveled around Iceland, the Faroe Islands and Norway. My mother so succinctly dubbed me the ‘Scandinavian Snail’ as my home would always be with me. Bravo on the alliterative moniker mom!
Economy and flexibility were the primary reasons for my planned accommodations, but I quickly learned that there is an unintended professional benefit to camping as well. Each evening, the art of camping would serve as a micro-design exercise. It was site selection at it’s most primal.
The shelter: its structure and enclosure are given.
What is left to the designer is to both locate and orient the tent.
Þingvallavatn, Iceland :: first campsite (my final campsite in Iceland was on the opposite side of the lake)
Sauda, Norway :: the evening sun dries the tent that had been soaked by rain the night before.
Now I will clarify that the type of camping I am referring to is camping in the wild. It is camping without parcels and lot lines, without the tamped flora that indicates a prior tenant. Regulated campsites can also serve as a great teacher, but only if there is a modicum of flexibility to your self placement. If you are given a lot number that is not the type of camping to which I refer.
I have been met with laughter as I have lauded the benefits of camping to an architect, but hear me out. Tenting and camping provide the designer immediate feedback. Success and failure lie on a spectrum, but should poor choices have been made, you will know it. Whatever calamity will befall you will fall to you alone, not your client. And it will be but temporary.
One sleepless night can be managed, but as I would be travelling for months I needed to develop a tenting protocol. As evening would approach I would begin the ritual of campsite selection. The primary task was to determine where along my route I would sleep. I looked for sites that would reasonably accommodate my criteria listed below that I felt would not be worse for having me bed down upon them. Scandinavia is my adopted homeland; I did not intend to trample my way around the countries.
moss + lava rocks :: I tested the resilience of the moss prior to pitching my tent.
not a single stake was used at this campsite. the tent stays were tethered to and weighted down by lava rocks
Developed over time and continually reassessed, my ritual of site selection consisted of these criteria:
- A level location that was large enough for my tent. I could sleep at a slight pitch, but only along the length of my body with my feet below my head.
- Adequate drainage + the general terrain around the tent (I met a pair of French senior lady cyclists – the cheeriest and toughest women I have met – who awoke one evening in the westfjords because a storm had come in and created a river where none had been prior. Their tent was an island in that river)
- Wind blocks to mitigate the strongest winds (a cross breeze is desirable to dry the tent)
- Wind blocks at the entry were particularly valuable, as they would also help protect the interior of the tent from driving rain as I entered the tent.
- I would attempt to position the tent to capture the morning sun to help dry the evening dew/rain.
- Ground cover coziness factor
- Privacy
- Potable water (i lost track of the number of times i refilled my water stores with a waterfall)
- View
Privacy :: Héðinsfjörður, in northern Iceland, is a deserted fjord that has only been made easily accessible by two tunnels completed in 2010. I camped within the ruinous low walls of a former farm far back from the road. A waterfall was located just beyond my campsite. (five weeks into my travels)
View :: looking north from road in Héðinsfjörður.
Once I felt I had a contender I would employ my tent stakes to provide a rudimentary soils report. The hurdle successfully cleared, I would prepare my home for the night. Initially view was much higher on the list, but I quickly learned that a view that could be admired from a cozy perch was far sweeter than one that was suffered for.
At times I would spend multiple nights at the same general campsite, but move or reorient my tent; testing my reading of the site. Done with consideration, the campsite selection process employs a series of pattern overlays: wind, rain, sun, terrain, drainage… all patterns.
Wind roses, sun paths and the climate analysis tools used in site analysis took on a new tangibility. With only two thin layers of Kerlon between me and the elements, I was sleeping in those diagrams.
The snow has come and thought my gear may be rated to minus ten degrees, I am not. I look forward to the spring to continue training my site evaluation muscles.
I invite you to join me.
Nei, I implore you.
Come on Architects.
Go Camping.