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A LETTER FROM HAROLD BENNET

I didn't stop camping. Camping almost stopped me.

From 58 summers under canvas to sitting in the dirt in front of my grandson. From a garage full of tents I couldn't use, to pitching one in seconds. This is my story.

A LETTER FROM HAROLD BENNET

I didn't stop camping. Camping almost stopped me.

From 58 summers under canvas to sitting in the dirt in front of my grandson. From a garage full of tents I couldn't use, to pitching one in seconds. This is my story.

Harold Bennet

10 min read

12.4K readers

01. A LIFE OUTDOORS

My wife Linda likes to tell people I was born in a tent. It's not true, but it's close. My dad took me on my first camping trip when I was nine.

Ozark National Forest, 1967.

I remember the mosquitos, the smell of the canvas, and the sound my father made when a pole snapped in the middle of setup and he had to hold the whole thing up with one arm while I drove the stakes.

I've been camping ever since. Fifty-eight years this summer.

I'm not one of those hardcore guys with a $3,000 ultralight setup and a podcast. I'm a retired shop teacher from Cedar Falls. I camp because it's the only way I know how to slow down. When I'm at a campsite, my phone doesn't buzz. My knees don't hurt as much. I sleep better than I do in my own bed.

Linda and I used to go three, four times a year. Our two sons grew up in the back of a station wagon full of gear. Now we've got four grandkids — Henry, Ellie, Bo, and little Joan — and every one of them has slept in a tent I pitched.

That was the problem.

"Camping is the only way I know how to slow down — and after fifty-eight summers, I wasn't about to stop."

02. THE TRUTH NOBODY WANTS TO ADMIT

The Tent Didn't Change. I Did.

I want to be honest about this, because I think a lot of men my age don't want to say it out loud.

The tents weren't getting harder. I was getting older.

Dome tent, six poles, sleeves to thread — same tent I'd pitched a hundred times. In my forties I did it in under ten minutes without thinking. In my sixties I was down on my knees counting to five between each pole so my back wouldn't lock up.

1967 — Age 9

My first trip.

Ozark National Forest with my dad.

1978 — Age 20

I took Linda camping on our third date.

Backbone State Park.

1986 — Age 28

Our first son, Danny.

His first camping trip at eight months old.

1994 — Age 36

The Boundary Waters.

Eight days off-grid with Linda and our boys. Still talk about it.

2013 — Age 55

My first grandson.

I took him to Backbone State Park before he could walk.

Today — Age 67

Four grandkids. Fifty-eight summers. And I'm not done yet.

03. HOW IT STARTED

The Day I Ruined My Back Moving a Couch.

In the spring of 2021, I helped my older son move a sleeper sofa up a flight of stairs. I felt the pop halfway up. I kept going because I'm an idiot and because my son was holding the other end.

Two weeks later I couldn't get out of bed without rolling onto my side first.

The MRI came back with what the doctor called a "degenerative disc" between L4 and L5 — lower lumbar spine, the part that does most of the work when you kneel down or bend over. He said it was common for men my age.

"The doctor called it a degenerative disc. I called it the end of camping."

He also said that if I kept loading that disc the way I had been — kneeling, crouching, lifting with my back — I was looking at surgery inside of ten years. Maybe fifteen if I got smart about it.

Ten more good camping years. Maybe fifteen.

That's the number I walked out of the office with.

04. ROCK BOTTOM

Thirty-Five Minutes on My Knees in Front of My Grandson.

The first trip after the diagnosis, I was setting up at Yellow River State Forest with Henry. He was eleven at the time.

Same dome tent I'd been using for eight years. I used to pitch it in eight minutes flat. That day it took me thirty-five. I was on my knees the whole time. Henry just stood there, holding one of the poles, trying not to look at me. I finally snapped at him to go help his grandma with the cooler.

I sat in the dirt and cried.

I haven't told anyone that before.

The next morning I told Linda I thought I was done. She didn't argue. She just said, "Then find a way that works."

"Thirty-five minutes on my knees, and I snapped at my grandson over a pole he was only trying to hold for me."

05. WHAT I TRIED NEXT

So I Did What Every Guy My Age Does. I Bought More Tents.

I figured if I just bought a better tent, the problem would go away.

I spent almost $500 on a big-name tent at Scheels that advertised "10-minute setup." Ten minutes for a man in his thirties, maybe. For me, on my knees, with a back that had opinions, it was closer to forty.

I had Linda holding one end of it while I threaded the last pole. She's 65. She shouldn't have to do that.

Then I bought a pop-up from a big-box store. The pop-up part worked fine. The first real gust of wind flattened it like it was made of paper.

By the fall of 2023 I had multiple tents in my garage I couldn't use and a wife who was getting tired of the story.

NOT THE ANSWER.

Then I Looked at RVs. $27,000 Used.

I priced a small travel trailer. $27,000 used.

I don't have $27,000 for a travel trailer. And even if I did — what I like about camping is being close to the ground, close to the fire, close to the woods. Not behind a wall.

06. WHY I PLAY THE LONG GAME

Four Grandkids. Ten Good Years Left.

Here's the thing. I had about ten good camping years left, if the doctor was right. Maybe fifteen.

Henry is going to be a senior in high school in four years. Ellie's eight. Bo and Joan are still in car seats.

If I stopped camping at 67, I'd miss all of it. Every single trip they were old enough to remember.

My Dad Was 71 When He Died.

I watched him get slower and smaller for about three years before the heart attack.

I don't get to choose when my body stops letting me do things. But I get to choose what I do with the time in between.

I wasn't going to quit camping because my body was slowing down. I just needed a setup that didn't ask my body for anything it didn't have to give.

07. THE TURN

Thanksgiving 2024: My Son's Brother-in-Law Showed Me a Video.

Marcus, my son's brother-in-law, rides motorcycles all over the country. Sleeps in a tent about forty nights a year.

Thanksgiving 2024, he showed me a video on his phone.

A guy pulled a bag out of a truck, pulled two handles, and the tent was standing.

I thought it was a trick. I made him play it again.

Marcus said, "Harold, this is the one I use. You should look at it."

My First Question Was "What's the Catch?"

I almost didn't look at it.

I've been burned enough times on Facebook ads and "revolutionary" gear that I don't trust anything that sets up in under a minute.

My first question wasn't "does it work?" It was "what's the catch?"

I spent two weeks looking for the catch.

08. WHAT THE RESEARCH SHOWED

Here's What I Found.

It's made of 210D Oxford fabric — same material my old hunting pack is made from. That stuff doesn't quit.

It's rated waterproof to 3,000mm. Heavier-duty than a lot of tents costing three times as much. Taped seams. Full rainfly included.

It's tested to 40 mph winds. Marcus camped in a storm in Colorado last August and said it held through the night while the tent next to him went sideways.

It fits in the trunk of my Camry. I measured. 30 inches long, about 6 inches wide. Goes in with the jumper cables.

It weighs under 10 pounds. I can lift it with one arm. My back doesn't speak to me about it the next morning.

09. THE PART I COULDN'T BELIEVE

Three Seconds. I'm Not Exaggerating.

You pull it out of the bag, you pull two handles, and it locks itself open.

No poles. No sleeves. No instructions.

I've done it in my driveway about twenty times now. The slowest I've ever been was eighteen seconds. The fastest was closer to six.

I took it to Backbone State Park in April. Set it up alone, in front of Linda, in a light rain.

She stood there and just said, "Well, I'll be damned."

10. WHY I TRUSTED THE COMPANY

It's Called the 3 Secs Tent. I'd Never Heard of Them Either.

Made by a company called Reactive Outdoor. I'd never heard of them before. Neither had Marcus, originally — he found out about them through a motorcycle forum.

So I did my digging.

They've sold north of 56,000 of these tents. 4.9 stars across all of them. They ship from Utah and Indiana, not overseas. They give you a full year to return it for any reason.

Not 30 days. A year.

I Bought the Large One.

Less than I spent on that tent at Scheels I never used.

It came in four days.

11. WHAT I'D TELL YOU

If You're Like Me, This Is the One.

If you've been camping your whole life, your body is starting to charge you interest on every setup, and you've got people in your family you still want to take outside — I'm going to tell you what Marcus told me.

This is the one.

I'm not a paid spokesman. Reactive Outdoor didn't pay me to write this.

I wrote it because after the garage full of tents I couldn't use, and the day I sat in the dirt and cried in front of my grandson, I wanted someone my age to hear it from a guy my age.

If it doesn't work for you, they'll take it back. You've got a full year.

I don't know what else you're waiting for.