Camping and gravity are not compatible. Place a full cup of coffee on what appears to be a level surface, and a tiny piece of grit will miraculously materialise underneath. The effect will be a rising tide of precious caffeine making it’s way towards a piece of electronics. Wash out a pair of knickers and they will inevitably leap from your hands, to fall on the only patch of gritty, muddy ground around. Grind a bike to the top of a mountain, with the prospect of a gravity assisted free wheel, only to find that it’s been cancelled, neutralised by the wind. Enthusiastic hand gesticulations will always end in an embarrassment and a red wine-stained tablecloth. The severed cream cheese wedge, sat on a plate, that catches in the wind, and ends cut side down.
It’s when camping that you soon start to realise that, not only does Nature abhor straight lines, but she detests flat surfaces. A level place is a luxury, it’s why we seem to revere the often utilitarian, sometimes decrepit, Argentine ‘asado’ and concrete table.
So - do you blame Gravity, Newton or the hamfisted Scots cyclist?
