Thin bivvy bag offers deeper connection to world
Since sleeping in on holiday is deeply self-disgusting, I prepare to get up.
A mile or so away, through the racing gloom, the English seaside town of Bridlington is filled with such folk, remaining in bed, protected by four walls and a roof, accepting that the best thing to do in England when the weather turns foul is to stay indoors or leave the country.
If you want the real deal, look toward Alastair Humphreys, National Geographic Adventurer of the Year for 2012.
Misery and pleasure"This book is about misery that's mixed in with pleasure, rather than taken straight: about self-indulgence rather than mere survival," Turnbull writes.
[...] all bivvy bags do have a secondary function as survival aids, and it's true that you can't have much of either fun or suffering if you died the previous winter.
A bivvy bag is a human-size pouch that you lie in, usually in mild agony.
There are certain kinds of British people who embrace self-inflicted misery as if it's a form of national service.
When a flysheet is touching a tent's inner liner, moisture wicks inward - so how was this going to keep me dry when it rained?
The rain is coming down hard enough to feel like I'm being trodden on - but my sleeping bag is dry.