Cities & Travel
Glamping with Cats
It turns out that I like fancy camping better than roughing it.
The majority of the camping I have done over the course of my life has not been glamorous. It would definitely not qualify as “glamping.” I did not grow up in a camping family, and these were not the types of trips we took. When I decided to camp, I had to learn how to do it on my own.
The first time I went camping I was 19 or 20. My childhood best friend and I grabbed an old tent her parents had laying around the house, took off for a tucked away part of Florida and figured it out. It was late July and we had no idea what we were doing. I’m still impressed that it was memorable in a good way. We found a great little campsite, cobbled together said tent, rented canoes, explored the crystalline springs and managed not to get completely devoured by mosquitoes. And when driving home along two-lane, backwoods roads through cow pastures, we stumbled across such a field with a patch of the right kind of mushrooms. A win, through and through.
My most rugged camping adventure was with my husband, who prefers survival-esque, is-this-actually-enjoyable-or-am-I-just-trying-to-prove-something types of camping trips. We gathered everything we needed for the weekend into packs on our backs and hiked through thick palmetto-bush scrubland. It was gorgeous spring weather, and we didn’t see anyone for miles, until we reached the campsite. Upon arrival, we were greeted by the sounds of a family with their five-year-old and no wood for fire (the family had collected all of that already for their own fire). After hiking out a little further, we found just enough wood to boil water and cook our food. Then swarms of mosquitoes drove us into our coffin-like tent, where we laid awake most of the night listening to loud noises made by wild boars.
My husband was impressed with my resilience. I just nodded and smiled, all the while making a pact with myself that future camping trips would require at least a modicum of comfort.
A couple years later, when our 11-year-old son’s spring break rolled around, I decided we were due an upgraded camping vacation. One that involved no boars, and included spacious tents, possibly electricity. Was this even a thing? I conducted a little research and, lo and behold, I discovered “glamping,” the unicorn of the camping world, I found there are indeed magical places where tents were set up prior to arrival and some even had electricity and real beds. I booked my first glamping experience through Airbnb at a cat rescue in the woods, several hours north of where we live on the Gulf Coast.
Upon arrival at Purradise Springs — https://www.purrapyinc.com/purradisesprings — we were greeted by the friendly host, Tom, who helped us bring our coolers and trunk to the “Purrt,” one of the large yurts/tents they leave permanently set up onsite. Within minutes, about a dozen cats ran out to greet us, joyfully accepting pets from my son, the cat-lover.
I’m cool with cats, but I didn’t grow up with them and used to be very allergic, which has waned over the years of exposure. There are about 140 cats at the rescue, comprising nine acres of woods and fields. They encouraged adoption, and while we were there, a couple that visited the week before drove back to adopt the cat that claimed their hearts.
There is a bonfire circle just beyond the three Purrts, and on Saturday (Caturday) nights, they build a fire and provide the makings for s’mores. Several hundred feet down a wooded path led to the “Star Field,” an open area with floating hammocks where, due to the lack of light pollution, an array of bright constellations are visible in the night sky. “You feel like you are floating in space,” Tom told us.
During the day, Tom provided my son with a “catfishing pole;” a long bamboo stick with an equally long piece of string attached, that when twirled around, much to my son’s delight, drew a bevy of cats that sprinted to chase it.
It felt liberating to load our coolers into a tent complete with a new king-size bed, electricity outlets, a/c and heat, and even a little table-and-chairs area comparable to a hotel room. And there was a real bathroom, located in their house, which doubled as a facility for the older or ailing cats. The purrs and meows that greeted us were a welcome change from the grunts of rutting boars.
The afternoon that we got there, we headed straight for Ichetuknee Springs State Park — https://www.floridastateparks.org/parks-and-trails/ichetucknee-springs-state-park — a 2,669 acre preserve with a clear, blue freshwater river/spring system that flows up from the Floridan Aquifer and is perfect for tubing or hiking, only about ten minutes from our retreat. and walked along the river’s edge, dipping our feet in the clear blue water and observing ancient trees and scurrying wildlife.
The environment changed to towering pine sandhill forest and the only sound was the wind through the boughs. That night we ate at a little diner in downtown High Springs, The Pink Flamingo, then returned “home” in time for a bonfire with Tom and our other host, his wife Denise. They shared their purpose: to provide a safe yet wild refuge for cats, many of them feral. Their passion and love for the land and their animals was evident. They told stories of various rescue scenarios as their furry friends took turns jumping between our laps, and explained how the facility has grown since they purchased the land just over a year ago. When the fire died, we retreated to the Purrt and drifted off to sleep as the rains came.
The next day, the temperature dropped from the 80s to the 50s and we transitioned from a/c to heat, a luxury afforded by the Purrt’s standalone a/c and heater, which looked like a flat screen tv set to the Fireplace Channel. This confused us at first; we weren’t sure what it was. However, we messaged the hosts for help and they immediately came to our tent and showed us that the tripped out tv was in fact a heater. We were a long way from camping with boars.
The rain lasted all day and into the night, which was expected and exactly what we wanted. We spent our time in the tent eating charcuterie meats, gourmet cheese, fresh berries and an assortment of Trader Joe’s delicacies, all chilled in our electric cooler. But most of all, we enjoyed the company of each other and the steady flow of cats that sauntered in and out of the tent as the day turned to evening. We played many rounds of Uno, we read, I journaled, all in the comfort of our luxurious tent and oodles of kitty friends. At one point there were seven cats in our tent at once, like they were having an impromptu summit or cocktail party. We made up names for them, and were pleasantly surprised each time a new visitor popped its little furry head through our door to come hang with us. Some were hesitant, while others marched in like they owned the place. I guess they do?
One cat in particular, whom we named “Cloudy” because of his deep gray coloring, stayed curled up near my pillow for the majority of our stay. Others would cuddle briefly, accept some tummy rubs or head scratches and move on. Another was quite fond of our electric cooler and sat on it unless we needed access. We named it “Cooler Cat.”
Engaging with the variety of kitty personalities was, in itself, mystifying. That night, with the rain steadily tapering off, we left the tent entrance slightly open so the cats could come cuddle, then leave as they pleased. They moved like damp, fuzzy ghosts in and out during the night.
The next morning, we packed up and bid farewell. On the drive back, I decided this trip landed right where I needed it to, for me, right now. Perhaps it wasn’t my husband but rather I who had been “trying to prove something” when I slept among wild boars and mosquitoes. I enjoyed taking it easy this time: a Purrt with a comfortable king-size bed, cats purring next to my face. I could take a long hike and return to relative luxury while still being outdoors.
Which is not to say that I will never again throw a pack on my back and tromp off into the woods. But for now, give me a climate-controlled Purrt with my son and a crew of cats. I’ll take glamping.
