As I sat outside tent 44 at Under Canvas Zion, watching the late-afternoon Utah sun paint layers of sedimentary rock in oranges and reds, I couldn’t shake the thrill of being able to step out of my tent to inhale the crisp desert air from my own porch.
The porch itself wasn’t exactly glamorous: 5 weather-beaten steps rising off the soil and rocks, with a few long planks and a firewood rack. But it felt luxurious. It also gave me a little distance from the tarantula that skittered across the path leading to my tent.
When darkness fell, I walked down the hill to Embers, the fast-casual restaurant in the communal main tent, and ordered a sun-dried tomato Caesar salad with skirt steak and a Uinta Clear Daze Juicy IPA. Then I dined alfresco as an acoustic guitar player named Mason belted out campfire classics like “America,” “Blackbird,” and “American Pie.” All around me, fellow glampers ate, played cornhole, and roasted s’mores at firepits.
Was I really in the middle of the wilderness?
Glamping was fulfilling its promise: I was getting heightened versions of everything I love about camping—being outdoors in awe-inspiring surroundings—without the things I don’t much like, such as close-up encounters with hairy arachnids and sleeping on a thin layer of padding.
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