UKC

What experiences have others had of sleeping under the stars without a tent? What was the best and worst?

Sorry if this is long winded but this is something I penned a few years ago about one of my most memorable experiences

Sleeping With Mother Nature

The scenery of the French Basque region is a delight to behold. The Pyrenees dip their toes into the waters of the Bay of Biscay whilst scarcely ten miles inland the Basque's sacred mountain of La Rhune beckons the more adventurous visitors to explore the mountains. Further progress inland reveals an increasingly interesting landscape of rolling hills and vast areas of woodland punctuated by numerous farms.

I had been walking from Hendaye for a little over a week and had passed through such delightful Basque villages as Sare and Ainhoa with their characteristically shallow roofed, half-timbered houses.

Beyond the historical town of St Jean Pied de Port I found myself in ever more beautiful countryside and was conscious of being observed by the occasional vulture wheeling high overhead.

Following a night in an empty gite in Esterencuby I had spent a morning of indolence, lotus eating and stopping to admire the views at any opportunity. It was no surprise, then that by five in the afternoon I had scarcely covered five miles since breakfast. Eventually, rounding a bend in the footpath, I saw a solitary beech tree. Solid of girth, it stood like a sentinel guarding the most beautiful patch of wild growing grass imaginable. Mowed and fertilised, no doubt by countless generations of sheep it was as neat and smooth as any English bowling green. The groundsman would have been proud of such work.

Eschewing the thoughts of a night in a refuge I took a critical look at the sky. There was not a blemish of cloud and, with no hint of breeze, the night promised to be warm. As I prepared myself a meal I reminded myself that there is something about sleeping under the stars; a feeling of freedom where one is unrestrained by walls or a roof. It is truly back to nature. With these thoughts my rather claustrophobic tent remained in its valise and I spread my large polythene bag on the ground to serve as a groundsheet. As late afternoon gave way to evening a few walkers passed by and exchanged pleasantries; otherwise I sat solitarily admiring the views as the light hues changed and the hillsides began to darken. As the sun sank well below the adjacent hills I eventually sensed that I was, at last, alone save for the grazing sheep and ponies and the wildlife of the hills. I was aware of the background noises of insects and birds as well as the occasional sonorous bonging of the bells adorning the necks of the pottocks, the ponies of the Basque country.

Eventually the starlit darkness was complete. Spellbound, I gazed at the heavens seeing the most captivating sight of countless pinpricks of light. Casting my mind back to my childhood I reminisced about the days when, in urban areas, street lighting - in the aftermath of the Second World War - was extinguished at midnight. In those far off day there was, in the small hours, little if any light pollution. That night I realized I had not seen such a sight since those days.

As the darkness took over there seemed to be a sensation of a switch being flicked off; a switch controlling the natural sounds of which one is subconsciously aware during daylight hours. There was, to me at least, a total silence enhanced by serenity otherwise non-existent in our hectic, so called civilized lives.

Even in the absence of a mattress I slept well. It was a restful sleep and yet it was punctuated by moments of wakefulness during which from my supine position I was able to admire the beauty of the heavens. I was fascinated at being able to track, albeit in a stop-go mode, the apparent passage of the stars across the clear sky. To be able to see so many stars with such clarity is sadly something few people nowadays are able to experience. I have heard it said that the reason why the Arabs were such avid astronomers was due to the clarity with which they could observe the heavens from their desert homes, with the sensation that the heavenly lights were almost touchable. Certainly, it is a superlative experience to be able to do so.

A gradual brightening of the sky and changing hues of the sky announced the dawn to come and soon the higher surrounding mountains caught the earliest rays of sunlight. A waning crescent moon peeped above the horizon; soon to be lost to the intensifying sunlight and the soundtrack was reactivated as the dawn chorus struck up. With my stove and food close at hand I was able to enjoy breakfast in bed as I’d never done before.

Having repacked my rucksack I resumed my journey eastwards, smug and self satisfied in the knowledge that I was not only a few hours ahead of any other of the day’s walkers but that I had slept with Mother Nature!

I'd be interested to hear what experiences others have had sleeping in the open.

In reply to mypyrex:

I love a good bivvy in the summer like.

In reply to mypyrex:
I've had some wonderful nights bivvying in the mountains (and a few bad ones). They were each so different and special in their own way, I'd rather not generalise. Some of the ones when I was on my own, using a very simple bivvy bag, usually without a sleeping bag (too much to carry with medium format camera gear): Gars-bheinn, Sgurr Dubh Mhor and Bruach na Frithe in the Cuillin, Green Gable in Lakes, Punta Allievi in Bregaglia (with climbing partner, but we were each in our own emergency bivvy bag about 50 yds apart), and Brandon Mountain in Kerry (the first, and possibly the most memorable of all).

In reply to mypyrex:

Best? Bivvying with tarp and canoe mid winter on a white sandy beach at the edge Loch Ba on Rannoch Moor as part of a 4day trip, dry but cold with a roaring little campfire and a bottle of wine, thought it was perfect and then the Northern Lights made an appearance. Best camp ever.

Worst? Big two day solo trip in the Beinn Lutharn Mor area with no rain forecast, bivvying out near Loch nan Eun. Wind picked up, rain started, turned to really wet snow overnight. Packed up at first light to get moving before i went hypothermic.

Had a cracking bivi up high on the Grey Corries ridge one summer as well actually, as part of a two day traverse of Corries all the way over to Aonach Mor, then CMD and the Ben.

Not really a wild bivvy. One night, travelling to mid Wales by train via Shrewsbury I missed the last train from Shrewsbury. I actually had quite a pleasant night sleeping on a park bench. It was pleasantly warm with a full moon.

In reply to mypyrex:
I took sleeping pills high up on the west flank as I didn't at all fancy the thunderstorm that was coming and could see no increase in risk by ensuring some sleep. Nice bivvy in the cave under Sgurr Sgumain but woke up to thick mist. I think my favourite places are on the High Street Range waking up looking East


Oh, slept under a hedge once near Salisbury plain after misreading orders and arriving a day early

In reply to mypyrex:
A few years ago at the end of December, I was heading for Camban from Gleann Lichd when the big snow drifts impeding my progress, and obliterating the path, meant I lost the daylight before reaching the bothy. So after making a dinner from re-heating snow for water and a boil-in-the-bag and coffee, I got my sleeping bag into my orange survival bag out then bivvied in the open.

It was mostly clear, so once in the sleeping bag, quite a luxury. Poking my head out to star-gaze was quite intense. However, the wind picked up from about 3am-ish, meaning spindrift was regularly blown into my bag, and I mostly abandoned sleep as my wary eyes were busy watching the weather deteriorating and I was making mental plans on what to do if the weather got really bad.

Next day rose after 8.30 and struggled on through the snow drifts to find the bothy. I had this ongoing nightmare that I was going to find that the bothy was, in fact, only yards away, but it was a couple more difficult miles further along.

A memorable night and pleasant in retrospect. But it was LONG! In my bag at 6pm and there till after 8am. And as the wind was picking up, it was uncomfortable and not too pleasant thinking of how it may get worse. Glad I've done it, though I'll be happy not to have to do it again.