"I will never grow tired of proclaiming that being out in nature is magical and healing. And there is a particular kind of magic to be found in our smaller, more intimate camps."
Our friends at Touch Grass recently held a Weekend Wanderer in Dorset - sun-soaked days, coastal hikes, and an ice cream boat, all made for a special couple of days.
Hear all about it from Touch Grass founder Toni in her latest Camp Letter.
Written by Toni, Founder of Touch Grass
Images by members of the community
Dear Passenger,
On our first night, the moon hung low, bathed in a soft orange glow against a sky painted musky blue and shadowy purple. Our bellies were full and our hearts content as we stared up in awe at how different she looked here in the Dorset countryside, far from the urban homes we had left only hours before.
I will never grow tired of proclaiming that being out in nature is magical and healing. And there is a particular kind of magic to be found in our smaller, more intimate camps.
It lives in the everyday rituals of being together. Taking turns to fill the jerry can. Holding a tent pole steady while someone works out where the next peg should go. Sharing food, tasks and whatever knowledge we have between us. No grand gestures, just small acts of care that turn a group of people into a camp.
The next morning, we set off on a coastal hike towards the beach. Butterflies danced alongside us on the trail, appearing so often that it began to feel as though they were guiding the way. The path opened out onto sweeping views of the sea, and before long we had exchanged our walking boots for bare feet and pebbled shores.
We spent hours there, soaking up the sun. Some of us ran straight into the water, our bodies meeting the sea with a sharp, breath-stealing shock before slowly adjusting and leaning into the cold. Some swam further out, while others stretched across the warm pebbles and watched from the shore.
And some of us napped.
I was one of them, and let me tell you: it was glorious.
At some point, an ice-cream boat appeared on the water. An actual boat selling ice cream. Who knew such a thing even existed? It felt like the sort of whimsical detail you would add to a story to make the day sound more magical than it really was, except there it was, floating towards us.
Back at camp, the evenings belonged to games, laughter and stories swapped beneath the fading light. One camper had brought a hammock, which we hung in a little woodland nook beside our pitch. Hidden from the blaring sun beneath a canopy of leaves, it became its own quiet retreat. Lying there, gently suspended between the trees, you could almost forget the rest of the campsite existed.
By Sunday, the energy had softened. We were tired in that satisfying way that follows a weekend spent outdoors: sun-warmed, well-fed and full of new memories. We gathered together for a patching session using kits provided by Passenger, choosing colourful patches to add to hats, bags and clothing.
It was a very fitting way to end the weekend. Sitting together with our hands busy, personalising the things we had brought with us and turning them into little keepsakes from camp. Conversation flowed easily as we compared designs, helped each other place patches and gave familiar items a new story to carry home.
Until next time,
Toni
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