My first day back to my feral lifestyle didn’t exactly scream “success.” Coming off a draining night shift, I was counting on setting up the hammock and getting some much-needed shut-eye—it felt like the best idea since sliced bread.
When I entered the woods, the darkness still lingered, and my headtorch on its dimmest setting provided just enough light to avoid tripping. Setting up camp, however, turned into a comedy of errors. My recently learned ridge line knot decided it wasn’t in the mood to cooperate. After what felt like forever, the ridge line was finally in place, and the tarp went up with minimal fuss.
Then came the under blanket—a task I managed to turn into rocket science. By this point, daylight was creeping in, and I realized I’d attached the under blanket incorrectly. What should’ve been straightforward became an embarrassing 20-minute battle of me fumbling and mumbling in frustration.
To make things worse, Bert—the storm wreaking havoc across the UK—was an uninvited guest. The wind was relentless, and as tired as I was, sleep played hard to get. Every time I drifted off, Bert would rudely interrupt. At one point, I genuinely considered packing up and retreating to the safety of my car or workplace.
The gusts were unnerving. One particularly fierce gust slammed the tarp so hard it nearly pushed it into my face while jostling the hammock beneath me. Then came the real fright: a deafening, low-pitched roar of wind charging through the woods, like something out of a horror film. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel it coming—it was one of the most unnerving experiences I’ve ever had in nature.
The only reason I didn’t bail was, ironically, my own laziness. I wasn’t getting up for love or money at that point. Though, in hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best time to test the modifications I’d made to my setup.
A Few Wins Amidst the Chaos
I recently got a new tarp, and so far, I’m impressed. I’ve added loops to both ends of the guy lines and slip knots for easy length adjustment. This setup makes tying the tarp to trees much easier—no complex knots required. Simply loop the line around a tree, pull it through the slip knot, and secure it with a peg or even a sturdy twig. It’s a small change, but it’s made a big difference.
I’m also waiting on a tarp sleeve, which I’m hoping will arrive before my next shift. The sleeve should make packing up the tarp a breeze—something I’ll gladly take after this ordeal.
Tent or Hammock?
Now that I’m getting used to sleeping in the woods, I’m torn between sticking with the hammock or going back to the tent. The hammock has the edge in urban areas, offering stealth and ease of setup. But there’s something about the tent that keeps pulling me back. Maybe I’ll keep alternating—after all, variety is part of the adventure.
First Day Back: Battling Bert and My Own Setup
My first day back to my feral lifestyle didn’t exactly scream “success.” Coming off a draining night shift, I was counting on setting up the hammock and getting some much-needed shut-eye—it felt like the best idea since sliced bread.
When I entered the woods, the darkness still lingered, and my headtorch on its dimmest setting provided just enough light to avoid tripping. Setting up camp, however, turned into a comedy of errors. My recently learned ridge line knot decided it wasn’t in the mood to cooperate. After what felt like forever, the ridge line was finally in place, and the tarp went up with minimal fuss.
Then came the under blanket—a task I managed to turn into rocket science. By this point, daylight was creeping in, and I realized I’d attached the under blanket incorrectly. What should’ve been straightforward became an embarrassing 20-minute battle of me fumbling and mumbling in frustration.
To make things worse, Bert—the storm wreaking havoc across the UK—was an uninvited guest. The wind was relentless, and as tired as I was, sleep played hard to get. Every time I drifted off, Bert would rudely interrupt. At one point, I genuinely considered packing up and retreating to the safety of my car or workplace.
The gusts were unnerving. One particularly fierce gust slammed the tarp so hard it nearly pushed it into my face while jostling the hammock beneath me. Then came the real fright: a deafening, low-pitched roar of wind sweeping through the woods. It sounded like a freight train barreling toward me, tearing through branches and shaking the canopy above. I couldn’t see what was causing it, but I felt it in the air around me. It was one of the most unnerving experiences I’ve ever had in nature.
The only reason I didn’t bail was, ironically, my own laziness. I wasn’t getting up for love or money at that point. Though, in hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best time to test the modifications I’d made to my setup.
A Few Wins Amidst the Chaos
I recently got a new tarp, and so far, I’m impressed. I’ve added loops to both ends of the guy lines and slip knots for easy length adjustment. This setup makes tying the tarp to trees much easier—no complex knots required. Simply loop the line around a tree, pull it through the slip knot, and secure it with a peg or even a sturdy twig. It’s a small change, but it’s made a big difference.
I’m also waiting on a tarp sleeve, which I’m hoping will arrive before my next shift. The sleeve should make packing up the tarp a breeze—something I’ll gladly take after this ordeal.
Tent or Hammock?
Now that I’m getting used to sleeping in the woods, I’m torn between sticking with the hammock or going back to the tent. The hammock has the edge in urban areas, offering stealth and ease of setup. But there’s something about the tent that keeps pulling me back. Maybe I’ll keep alternating—after all, variety is part of the adventure.
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