Left-field [393]

Where we compare stealth camping to wild camping...

Me camping aged 2, sat with my mother. I can’t remember us paying for a campsite till I was about 12.

Greetings from a hotel in Porthmadog.

Wales is a place I’ve slept under canvas too many times to remember. I’m glad to have a room tonight though. The rain outside my window has not let up for hours.

On the way here I tried to find an old favourite camp site. It was not that far from the Barmouth toll bridge. Up a wooded lane, through a gate and beside a river.

30 years ago It used to cost one pound a night which you’d drop into an honour box. There was a small wooden shed up a lane that was home to a pair of curtains and a toilet. As you sat on the loo, Cader Idris was perfectly framed between those curtains.