Carry on camping

The thing with running, is that it just doesn't lend itself to camping. Not the sort of camping that the sort of running I enjoy most, brings you closest to anyway. By which I mean, any run on the fells or the coast will more often than not take you past some wonderful camps - places in which I would love to stay a while, perhaps all day until the next.
It's not that multi-day runs are out of the question, indeed some of the best trips of late have been just that, carrying no more than a little water, cash and a toothbrush. And they have been great trips for exactly that reason (among others), that is, the absolute lack of gear, faff and, well, the luxury of beds, baths, beer and food made in a kitchen by someone else - all of which is made even better by the fact that it is entirely justifiable. Stay at a B&B on a paddling trip? But what option does one have when running for three consecutive's not even a guilty pleasure. Just pleasure. And whatever the price, after running 20 odd miles on the fells, it really is remarkably easy to justify the expense.
The only thing is, I like camping. In fact it is often the camp which has formed the most lasting memories of so many of the trips I have made. 
From frozen nights high in the Cairngorms, to wild days spent storm bound on the Atlantic coast, some have been better planned than others, but I cannot remember one which I did not enjoy in some way.
A few more images below from some of the best. Though not the best pictures, I could, without too much trouble, write a thousand words for each, every one having a story worth telling behind it.
And that is the thing about camping.
An early resolution then - to redress the balance...
...and carry on camping.