“So are you going to camp?” “Camp?” I gulped as my hands grew clammy and I started to shake. “Hell no, I don’t camp!” But it was too late – I was firmly in the throes of ex-husband induced post traumatic camping disorder. The flashbacks started: visions of tiny, wet pup tents, cold, damp clothes, icy toes and icier disapproval. My long time ago ex-husband had been a die-hard ubercamper and I had been a camping neophyte. It was not a match-up made in heaven and I still bore the psychological scars. I had vowed to never spend another night in a tent. Last fall, after owning several strictly street-oriented motorcycles, I bought a V-Strom and started planning some adventures. This May I am planning on heading south from <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-comffice:smarttags" /><st1lace><st1:City>Victoria</st1:City>, <st1:State>BC</st1:State></st1lace> for 2 weeks and exploring the coast down through <st1lace><st1:City>Washington</st1:City>, <st1:State>Oregon</st1:State></st1lace> and parts of <st1:State><st1lace>California</st1lace></st1:State>. Then in June/July I am going to spend 4 weeks on a trip to <st1:State><st1lace>Colorado</st1lace></st1:State>. The plans for both are to have no plans and stay in motels, B&Bs or hostels along the way. I was discussing these adventures with co-workers when the camping question came up. Now I’ve been reading ride reports on ADVrider for some time. Seductive adventures close to home and from wide-flung corners of the world. And in a lot of them people camped with no ill effects. The thought started to worm its way into my brain – maybe I could camp sometimes. Including camping in the “no plan” plan would allow for a lot more flexibility. It would be on my own terms and in my own way. It had been almost 30 years after all – it was time to make the attempt.