I enjoy learning. Generally, I’d say I prefer to learn new things, although some lessons I must really like based on how often they get revisited. 

When it comes to hammock camping, the one lesson that doesn’t seem to stick is the idea of arriving and setting up before dark.

I know the pitfalls of showing up at a spot after the sun has dipped below the horizon. I know the dangers that can accompany hanging my bed under diminished light and with low energy reserves. It makes sense to me that arriving early enough to build camp within daytime hours leads to a more relaxed and safer experience. When people new to hanging ask me for some pro tips, one of the first nuggets I provide is, “avoid setting up in the dark.”

And yet, it still happens from time to time… I find myself arrived at my chosen location and proceed to establish my suspended home- sans sun. 

 There are lots of excuses, some legit, that lead to this happening. 

Maybe I had gotten a flat tire, or there was some unexpected weather or a roadside diversion ran a little long. More often than not for me though, it’s because I met or ran into someone and I chose to stay in the conversation an extra while. I do enjoy talking to people, especially about traveling and hammocks!

Whatever the why, however, the “what now” usually ends up resulting in a headache. 

The problem is not with the actual process of setting up my Journeyman Hammock Camp; It’s a very simple system, and I have a lot of practice! I’d say I could do it blindfolded, but about the time I’d try, I could see my nose getting busted against a tree.    

The issues with setting up in the dark tend to stem from what goes unseen – such as the dead branch perched precariously overhead, or the sticky sap running all over the tree, or the stinging nettle that didn’t get noticed as I made my way to hang near a river’s edge.   

Still, sometimes, I do it on purpose.     

On a recent outing with my partner, we knew we were going to be setting up in the dark. There was a music event we planned to attend, and due to a questionable forecast, we were not 100% committed to sleeping outdoors. We knew where we would camp if we decided to stay, so we arrived early, well before the start of the concert, and did a quick scope of the grounds. The site was tucked away at the edge of a seasonal resort community, had gentle terrain with good drainage, and lots of trees. An after-hours setup should be no problem.

We watched the sun slowly set as the band played some of our favorite music. The temperatures held and the storms that were forecast didn’t arrive. It was a beautiful night. 

After the show, a few of us grabbed some cocktails and conversation as we extended the good times later into the evening. When we were ready, we headed back to the camp location and proceeded to find our spot. 

Things looked a lot different with only my vehicle’s headlights as illumination. 

The spot we had eyed earlier no longer seemed suitable, so we chose a different location that seemed a little easier to access. The moment I pulled off of the two-track to park, we heard the loud POP of a glass bottle under the back of the vehicle. Uh-oh! 

With my own advice about not setting up in the dark echoing in my mind, I wandered back to check the situation. Good fortune smiled on us this time, as there was no hiss coming from the tire!

Under the halogen glow, two sets of suitable trees located near each other were identified, and soon our homes were hung with care. It was time for a comfortable night’s rest.

I awoke the next morning and emerged from my cocoon uncharacteristically earlier than my partner. After a nice stretch and quick glance around, all seemed well. Our late night setup didn’t seem to have gone too badly, after all! 

As I wandered over to offer morning greetings and was about to celebrate the victory of a successful night setup, I noticed a soft buzzing sound that seemed to grow louder as I approached my partner’s shelter. “I’ve been listening to them all morning… the bees,“ came a subdued voice. As I gently peeled back the shelter and looked under the hammock bed, I saw the source- mere inches from the bottom of the puffy underquilt was a hole in the earth from which there came a steady stream of small- fortunately docile- flying creatures. It appeared that the camp had been set up directly over top of a gound wasps’ nest!  

Ah, none is so bittersweet as the taste of victory thwarted.