//Glamping, the ultimate compromise…

Glamping, the ultimate compromise…

Glamping, the ultimate compromise…


We would have called glamping many things, but the ultimate compromise wasn’t one of them; In fact we would describe it as camping with very few compromises.

That was until recently at our Wild Coast Pop-Up Camp, during which we had the pleasure of hosting a family of four; mom, dad, a four year old boy and an infant girl of nine months.

The story goes a little bit like this; dad is a keen outdoors type, the kind of dad that is very keen to expose his son to as much of nature as possible, and all that goes along with it. Perhaps trying to root in some appreciation for the outdoors before the inevitable slide into device dependency takes its grip.

Mom, on the other hand is most certainly not as inclined towards the outdoors, and would prefer the conveniences of home above a trip into the wilderness, and we must say, who can blame her with an infant and all. There was one small matter of a prior camping night out, before the kids came along, and this was about enough to remind mom why she isn’t fond of camping.

One day this novel idea of a pop-up camp ‘popped up’ on dads device, and it wasn’t long before he presented the idea to mom, and with a little bit of additional marketing on his part, a rather cautious mom agreed to the idea.

The family arrived after a bit of a long haul from Limpopo, in the dark, and to the uninitiated this can be a rather nail biting experience (this quickly dissipates as one learns about this sleepy part of the eastern cape). We can only imagine they slept with eyes wide open the first night, and normally after the first sunrise, relaxation sets in, and even the simplest tasks seem like work.

Number one on dads list of experiences to squeeze into their stay, was to get the little guy on one end of a fishing rod, and a fish on the other end. Dad didn’t have to wait long, and later that afternoon, the little chap walked into the kitchen tent with a decent, pan-sized galjoen, and the pride, with which he allowed dad to recount the story of catching this fish, was priceless.

But, it didn’t end there, dad was adamant that the little guy needed to be a part of the process of gutting and filleting the fish (after which we pan fried it with a little spice and lemon). Tick, one of life’s greatest achievements for many dads, done and with flying colours.

Later that evening a rather satisfied dad leaned across to mom, and said “glamping, the ultimate compromise”.


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