Over the years, as a kid and then a climber, I’ve camped a lot, starting in a moldy canvas army pup tent with my friends in the backyard, age 9. Or in tents with classmates on trips to Assateague or Catoctin, in Maryland, where it always seemed to rain and our tents always leaked. Or in my own tent at Miguel’s Campground, Red River Gorge, in Kentucky, where it poured day after day and, as if in a horror movie, salamanders began coming out of holes in the muddy ground by my door…