By: Blonde Two

There are many reasons why wild camping on Dartmoor in March might not be a good idea:

The cold is an obvious one (over the years, we Blondes have developed various failed methods of dealing with this.)

Getting up at dawn is another (Saturdays and Sundays are surely for lie-ins under cosy duvets?)

The mud (which turns you into a contortionist as you try to remove your boots without anointing your socks.)

The hair (forget hair, after a night tossing and turning at camp, I have a Blonde mat instead.)

The bathroom provision (draughty, scratchy and public!)

The underwear (this time a stone fell out of mine when I got home!)

The tiredness when you are walking the next day (obviously there is never any corresponding grumpiness!)

But by the end of the weekend, it always somehow seems worth it. A bit like childbirth (which takes approximately 18 years to get over) you forget all of the grot and struggle; because you remember that it is for very good reasons; the company (younger and more mature), the scenery and the feeling of stepping outside yourself. Definitely worth it, we Blondes will be wild camping again soon!