Luxury adds to camping bliss

WHEN gourmet food, champagne and a carpeted tent with a decadent queen-sized bed is on offer, Ellen Connolly discovers that she does like camping after all.

In the 'Decatent' ... If not for the canvas walls, the sleeping quarters could have been in the Hilton Hotel.

I LOVE the idea of camping: toasting marshmallows around a fire, sleeping under a canvas of stars, being at one with nature.

But I hate the reality of it: pitching a tent, dirt in my sleeping bag, dirt in my food, plastic cups and canned food.

I'm just not the outdoors type. In fact, I'm so bad at roughing it that during my last attempt friends facetiously dubbed me "outdoor girl". I didn't find it funny.

So, as we headed to Kangaroo Valley for a weekend of camping, I was utterly bewildered as to why I was putting myself through such torture again.

This would be different, I was told, because it was "five-star camping".

The trip did not begin well. We left Sydney later than anticipated, then got lost on the way. Tempers were frayed, reaching boiling point as I struggled – and failed – to complete the simple "outdoorsy" task of opening a farm gate that led to our campsite.

Peter Hunter, who runs Extravacamps, heard us before he saw us. "I could hear you two yelling in the car," he remarked as he placed a glass (yes, glass – not plastic) of champagne in our hands. "I want you to chill out," he said. "This place is all about chillin'."

Unlike most camping trips where the car is packed to the hilt with gear and food, this time we had only our overnight bags. Everything had been supplied – even the kitchen sink.

Peter had put up two tents. The larger formed our living area with entry hall, kitchen, dining table, stove and pantry.

A large esky, which managed to stay icy cold for the entire weekend, was packed with gourmet deli delights, organic eggs and meats, tropical fruit and vegetables as well as wine and soft drinks. There was crockery, glassware, a barbecue and coffee maker.

In the neighbouring tent – dubbed "the Decatent" – were our sleeping quarters. If not for the canvas walls, we could have been in the Hilton Hotel. The tent was carpeted and had a queen-size bed, wardrobe and side tables with lamps.

There were fluffy robes, as well as chocolate truffles on our pillow, and aromatherapy products. Even a heater!

An amenities trailer housed a shower and separate toilet where we kept the door flung open in an attempt to pretend we were true bushies.

The five-star experience did not end there. Peter bade us farewell just as our personal chefs Maggie and Mark Taylor, of Gourmet Saint, arrived and proceeded to serve wine and canapes as we sat around a fire overlooking the Kangaroo Valley River.

The main meal was magnificent: veal backstrap with char-grilled vegetables, tomato and capers. Dessert turned out to be a chocolate-coated nest filled with summer berries and Cointreau.

The camp, 10km from Kangaroo Valley village, sits on the edge of a vast private property. We felt completely isolated, waking to kookaburras laughing, a babbling brook and cows wandering past.

There was plenty to do, or rather not to do, at the camp. Our favourite spot was a deckchair on the river bank and, later, lolling on a lilo where we spotted a platypus.

Peter had forgotten nothing: stereo with CDs, board games, weekend papers, magazines and plenty of chilled wine and refreshing water.

We did venture out, however, stocking up on sweets and pickles at the Fudge House in Kangaroo Valley, then driving to Berry for a wander through the Sunday markets.

Back at camp, it was easy to be lulled into a semi-coma-like state. The daily city noises of sirens, bottle collectors and mobile phones were replaced with birds singing, a crackling fire and running river.

While aimed as a romantic getaway for two, Extravacamps can accommodate up to three couples, as well as children. It certainly took the stress and hassle out of camping as I knew it.

And as I snuggled up in the soft linen sheets under a starry sky, I felt as though I had finally conquered my fear of camping.

Perhaps I am the outdoors type after all.

The writer was a guest of Tourism NSW and Extravacamps.

The Sunday Telegraph