The sun is shining through my 8th story window as sit here typing in my room in the Bay Plaza Hotel. I’m slouched on a fluffy floral print pillow lying comfortably in a queen sized bed listening to Windy Welly howl outside.

My Chucks are off and thrown on the floor. Doritos bag beside me, cheddar of course. The movie Life As We Know plays silently on the television (what an unbearably cheesy, but infectiously distracting movie). Maybe or maybe not a Bulmers Cider close by, taking a note from Ernest Hemingway and hoping to break my writers block.

This is a vast contrast to where I was sleeping just two days before.

 

48 hours ago, the wind was still howling, and my Chucks were still thrown on the ground, but instead of lying in a comfortable bed protected from the elements, I was swaying in my hammock with the piercing wind.

My Lovely Hammock

High up above Wellington on Mount Victoria, I was wrapped like a burrito in my bright red sleeping bag, elbows clenched to my sides, shivering from the wind that always found a way in.

Recently, I have become well-known, maybe even infamous, for the fact that the entire last week I spent in Wellington I slept each night in my hammock. Past the posh bars of Courtenay Street, through the California bungalow style house, and overlooking Oriental Bay, I slumbered (and cowered) in the woods on Mount Victoria in an area known as the Hobbit Hideaway.

Many people have asked me this entire week why I would do such a thing, sleeping exposed to the weather and the possibilities of axe murderers when I could be snoozing in a warm hostel bed.

I always had a simple answer: Money.

 

Next month I have someone visiting me from the U.S. who I will be traveling with from Christchurch to Auckland. When I originally budgeted for New Zealand, I budgeted for a few months of travel, then I would get a job and save some more.

Well, January was my budget cap month, but after my friend decided to visit me in New Zealand for 30 days, I had to make sure I could cover the travel and activity expenses that we will incur until March.

How would I do that? I had a gig lined up at a hostel working for accommodation, but after some miscommunications, the job was given away, and I was shit out of luck. Every couch on Couchsurfing seemed to be taken, and there were suddenly no WWOOFing opportunities (except at the last place I was at, and I wouldn’t go there again) which I am guessing is linked to the upcoming Rugby Sevens.

With no options left except to pay for hostel rooms I couldn’t afford, what could I do?

Guerrilla Camping.

 

What is Guerrilla camping? Well, according to this video by Benjamin Jenkins I stumbled upon after I had already done it for a few days, it is just like camping normally, except you are doing it in places a little less conventional, and sometimes illegal.

I had no clue there was a name for what I was doing, I just figured I would discover the delights of being homeless for a week and half. Hell, I slept in my hammock across the entire Northland of New Zealand for three weeks, so it wouldn’t be much different. But sleeping close to a major city in a non-sanctioned camping area is quite different.

And very nerve-racking.

 

The first night was the most intense of course. When I made the decision, I had already pre-determined the location, knowing after a hike up a couple of weeks back that there must be plenty of trees on Mount Victoria to hang a hammock.

After an awesome #TTOT discussion on Twitter, I sat around on my phone trying to waste time until the inevitable, and as my eyes got heavier, and my body started swaying, I knew it was time to go.

With my sleeping bag and hammock slung over my shoulder, I started the hike. To get to my final resting place (oh, that sounds morbid) I had to walk up a very tall flight if stairs, zig-zag through an eerily quiet neighborhood above Wellington, up another stairwell, pitch black beside St. Gerard’s church, and follow a road up into the entrance to the mountain.

 

I can tell you there wasn’t a moment along the way up that I wasn’t looking over my shoulders. It was silent, except for the rapid pounding of my heart in my chest. Even though I was just passing through a neighborhood, my heightened sense made every noise and shadow amplified.

 

Every second I felt like someone was watching or following me. Freddy Krueger is out there somewhere…

 

When I finally reached the park entrance, I paused, staring at the dark woods. I glanced around one last time, and after making sure no one was watching, I took a deep breath and ventured in. It was deathly silent.

I remember taking steps slowly, the bushes swaying in the wind, and my imagination playing tricks on me.

I’ll admit, I was pretty damn scared.

 

Everything looked as though it would jump out at me, and my horror movie-esque mind did not help. All sorts of scenarios played out in my head as I walked cautiously further into the mountain.

As I came up one hill, I remember seeing two figures standing on the hill watching me ahead. My heart stopped, my body tensed, After a few moments I realized they were saplings swaying in the wind, but I was still on edge.

I searched along the path up the mountain a little further, and right after a clearing overlooking sleepy Wellington and all the city lights, I seemed to have found a perfect spot.

Two trees, two perfect branches hanging over far enough to hang a hammock comfortably from. I fumbled tying the to ends in the dark, too afraid to use my phone if someone would see it, eyes always peeled.

I slipped into the sleeping bag, waddled over to the hammock, and slithered in. I laid there, swaying back and forth in silence, even holding my breath occasionally. I was sleepy, but too focused on the noise of the forest and staring down the path, watching for someone to come up.

Creepy Trees

 

That first night my face was covered by the sleeping bag, draw string pulled tight with the little kid hope that it would protect me from what goes bump in the night.

I got no sleep at all…

 

The trees creaked, branches reached out at me, bushes moved. Remarks from others like Ed Rex from Rexy Adventures about snapping twigs and killers behind me didn’t help settle my fears as well!

With every crackling stick, every whisper of wind, and every flutter of leaves I would tear open my sleeping bag and look around, poised to defend myself against the imaginary axe murderer.

Or poised to run.

 

Every night wasn’t like this, just the first, though I did have things keep me awake occasionally. The first night I got about 2 hours of sleep, and woke at sunrise to wander back into the city for fear someone would spot me sleeping there.

After that, I became more and more comfortable with the fact that I wasn’t bothering anyone by being there, and it was such a pain in the ass to get there that it would take a lot of effort just to come up there and mess with me.

Some nights the wind was so strong that no matter how many trees I was surrounded by, it still felt fierce. Passing through the trees it would whistle or howl, and I would have to tell myself there is no creepy little girl laughing behind you in the trees, it’s just the wind. On the weekends, the yells from the drunkards in the city below would carry up, and would sound like they were a mere feet away, always startling me awake.

In the middle of the week, there was one night with gale force winds, sideways rain,and no hope for me to make the 30 minute walk through the city and up the mountain. That night, I chugged coffee after coffee inside McDonald’s and pulled an all nighter, but all the other nights I was blessed with no rain.

In reality, I didn’t have much to fear.

 

It did come with it’s perks too. Each morning when I woke, rolled up the hammock and sleeping bag, and exited the woods, I was greeted by a spectacular view of Wellington at sunrise. My hammock hideaway overlooked downtown Wellington, the harbor, and Oriental bay, and it shocked me every morning that I was waking up to such a sight.

Also, the freedom of being atop a mountain by yourself, braving the elements, and facing your fears made it exhilarating too. The more and more I stayed on the mountain, the more I enjoyed it, and the later I slept in. Except when curious dogs would run up to me and take a sniff while on their morning walk.

 

It’s not everyday that I would leave the comfort of shelter to sleep in the woods above a city, but this isn’t everyday life now, and it actually felt amazing. Guerrilla Camping is exactly the same as normal camping, just a lot closer to civilization, which adds a bit more tension and unease to it at first.

 

 

Would I do it again? Yes, and I will end up doing it much more often too.

 

This week and half I saved nearly $400 by sleeping in my hammock outside. Some nights were chilly, some nights left me peeking out of my sleeping bag into the darkness, but it was still a great experience.

If you are planning on Guerrilla Camping, or thinking about it, I just have a little advice. It can be perfectly safe to do it, but with all travels, be aware of your surroundings. I was a 30 minute walk up stairs, a steep hilly neighborhood and into the woods.

At all times I could see the path below and above if someone should pass by. I made sure it was a pain in the ass to get there, so even though my mind has a wild and elaborate imagination, I was most likely very safe.

Plus, it can save you a hell of a lot of money if you can’t find accommodation elsewhere or if you are looking to save.

 

Have you ever thrown up a hammock or pitched a tent (no pun intended) to do some intended/un-intended Guerrilla Camping? What was it like for you, and where did you sleep?

 

 

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