A New Year of Star-Camping

For 2026, I want to be more myself — less stress and rumination, more centeredness and joy — and that’s going to necessitate a lot more time beneath the stars.

In December, I participated in an end-of-year “cozy journaling” session hosted by Cee Reel. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but two of the prompts re-sparked an experiment I’d been wanting to try.

• What was your favorite photo from 2025?

• When did you feel most like yourself this year?

My favorite photo from 2025? My first thought was the 37-minute image of M33 I stacked with my little smart telescope under the dark skies of Camp Hancock in September. The Triangulum Galaxy is like delicate, luminous lace against a cosmic background. The time I felt most like myself involves the same star party, when I watched mesmerized as blazing diamonds drifted across the sky. The experience was nothing short of magic, and not just because of the celestial sights: It had also been a long time since I’d packed up my car for an adventure.

I have solo road-tripping in my blood. Family legend has it that my maternal grandfather would wake up in the morning with travel on his mind — like driving the Chisholm Trail on a whim. I’m no stranger to big expeditions; I famously drove cross-country with two dogs and two cats for company when I moved to Oregon. I love the feeling of intrepid independence.

More than a decade ago, I started daydreaming about an “astro-camper” — a small camper or conversion van I could use to haul my modest gear to dark-sky sites, a vehicle outfitted for just enough comfort away from home. Last summer, I realized I already had most of what I needed — and had had for decades.

When I bought my 1998 Toyota RAV4L new off the lot, the salesman demonstrated all the amazing things my new car could do. Pointing to the power outlet in the back, he described how I could reverse into the water, open the rear door, and listen to a plugged-in radio while casting a fishing rod from inside. (I have never done this.) I chose this vehicle because it could accommodate both of my dogs at the same time, not to go car camping. But the salesman reclined the driver and passenger seats to connect with the back seats to make full-length beds — no camp pads needed.

That was a neat feature, and I promptly forgot all about it.

Then I arrived at Camp Hancock last September to learn that a water leak would reduce the star party weekend to a single night. Instead of unpacking, I slept in my car — the same old RAV4 — for the very first time.

Reader, it was amazing. Not only was I comfortable in my sleeping bag, but the windows all around me gave me sleepy-time views of the stars and planets in every direction except straight up. Barely able to keep my eyes open, I was filled with purpose. I was both delighted and disappointed that I hadn’t been stargazing/car-camping all along — star-camping?

Coming into the new year, I want more of this roving wonder. Even a short car trip can satisfy my occasional restlessness, and looking up into the night sky brings me back to the introspective, adventurous, and optimistic person I am at my core — and the person I want to be. A modest night of star-camping could be a perfect fit.

Stargazing is simple and startling in its revelation. Like plants that thrive with sunlight, I crave the light of other stars to nourish my mind and soul. These nighttime explorations have me traveling thousands and millions of light-years across space, and gazing deeply inward, without ever leaving the ground — I just have to get out of the city for better views.

Now I’m on the hunt for sites within easy driving distance. Anyplace darker than suburban Portland will do. I can’t completely rough it, even with the comfort of my car. My physical challenges require that there’s at least plumbing available. But I’m excited to give star-camping a try.

Naturally, conditions here have been windy, wet, and overcast for long weeks. I got the ambitious idea to do a test overnight in the driveway under rainy winter skies. I figured I could keep warm in my sleeping bag and Tigger onesie. The night after Christmas, I gathered my supplies and was about to step out into the freezing dark when I remembered that I’m prone to hypothermia. It can take me days to warm up again. I chickened out and went to bed with a heating pad instead.

For now, I might be restricted to the backyard. But come milder nights, I’ve got my eye on a couple of darker locations. I can load up the car both to escape the outrages of the world and to embrace true solace and glee. There’s much to recommend a simple night away. I’m looking forward to getting reacquainted with my bolder self and nurturing my spirit under the stars. May 2026 be my inaugural year of enthusiastic star-camping.