Camping in New York City: a tent revival, of sorts

The Outdoor Nation National Congress met this weekend in New York City — ironic placement?  I've always scoffed at urban camping, but in such a nature-starved city, maybe it's better than nothing.  Photos are by Rachel Elkhind.

46 delegates from across the country met to discuss our vision for connecting youth to the outdoors. Outdoor Nation is growing in its second year.

 How camping at the Floyd Bennett Field in Brooklyn is like real camping:

• Mosquitoes whined through the night and ticks lurked in all the grass, which is part of a grassland restoration project.
• Fireflies came on at dusk.
• It's colder camping near water (in this case, Jamaica Bay).
• Campers have the option for some seclusion (at least a few campsites have about 180° worth panning before you're looking at the side of someone else's tent) and they have fire pits!

 How camping at the Floyd Bennett Field National Park in Brooklyn was NOT like real camping:

• It's on an old airfield, with a bar half a mile down from the campsite (albeit with slow service and limited stock of everything).
• You can see a city skyline but no stars.
• My group got a Cribs-worthy eight-person Coleman tent complete with a light switch.  Crazy.

You know, backpacking . . . and luggaging.

How camping in Central Park in Manhattan is like real camping:

• We pounded our tent stakes into real dirt.
• We had rangers on hand to show us cool birds, reveal park secrets and hidden treasures and point out certain tree smells (like lindenwood!).  They also kept us safe from late-night visitors in the Ramble.
• The birds start chirping at 4 in the morning just like anywhere else.
• Umm . . .

How camping in Central Park is NOT like real camping:

• Everything else.

But! All is not lost. Wilderness deprivation came at the cost of culture, and that's a reasonable price.  On Friday night I saw new bands at the Rockwood Music Hall in SoHo. The most energetic was Holy Ghost Tent Revival. Their instrumentation verged on being almost too eclectic, including a banjo, tambourine and baby grand piano that edged the brass players off the stage.

They're talented performers and I'd see them again if they ever venture west.  Or if, you know, I ever want to revive tent camping in the center of a metropolis again.