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My first ever camping trip (when I was 18) was an ambitious hike around France with my mate. I was travelling from South Wales and she was travelling from Southend-on-See and we met in Dover for the ferry crossing over. I brought the roll mats, and plastic dishes and cutlery, she brought the old ridge tent and sleeping bags,which she had borrowed from a colleague.
We got to France and realised we had forgotten the phrase book, but we bought one in Calais and then realise we had got a French to English book and had to struggle to translate things.
We got to our campsite in Mont St Michell, unpacked everything and it was then that my mate realised there were no poles with the tent. She hadn't checked it beforehand, as she had never used a tent before.
We tried in vain to make some tent poles from old tree branches, but gave up and just used it as a giant sleeping bag in the end. We spent three days like that until we were able to buy some poles. Fortunately the weather was brilliant and it was no problem sleeping in the open air. We met up with some Swedish bikers who always camped like that..
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