Summer nights, stars and sometimes slugs… for me, bivvying feels like the purest form of camping and the best way to immerse yourself in your surroundings. Just you and the sound of long grass in the breeze, or gentle waves lapping the shore, waking to a morning dawn chorus from the birds. No tent to block your view of a sunrise bleeding over the mountains.
What is bivvying?
‘Bivvy’ is short for bivouac, a French word for ‘temporary shelter’. They originated in the military but are now the pinnacle of minimalist wild camping. A bivvy bag is a basic, lightweight, waterproof bag for your sleeping bag to slot in to, leaving your face exposed to the elements - though there are many variations of bivvy bags now, including hooped bivvies which you can zip yourself in to, like a miniature tent.
Frost and Freedom in the Fells
I had a slightly unconventional introduction to bivvying. The usual advice when you want to try bivvying or wild camping in general is to start small to build confidence. Your garden, or a ‘nearly wild’ campsite with friends in summer. This is excellent advice, so naturally, I ignored it and instead headed up the Haystacks in the Lake District one freezing November night. I knew the route well enough by day, but by night it’s difficult to descend so if I got scared (which I did) I wouldn’t have any choice but to deal with it - a baptism of ‘just suck it up!’
It was forecast to be a cold but clear night, with no wind and no clouds, so I’d prepared for the conditions with my winter sleeping bag and mat, plenty of layers, hot food, torch, and someone (in a warm, comfortable bed) aware of my plan. It didn’t take long for the eerie glow of sheep eyes to completely freak me out and I crawled into my bivvy bag nestled in a crag, convinced that zombie sheep or worse were going to be the end of me.
Eventually, the adrenaline/fear wore off and I slept surprisingly warm and comfortably, waking to a pink sunrise seeping over the Buttermere fells. I was immediately grinning like a fool, marveling at the sight, all my fears forgotten. Slithering out of my frost-caked bivvy bag, I had to break the ice on a wee tarn to fetch water for tea. Back in my bag, swaddled in many layers like a giant quilted caterpillar, cup of tarn tea in my hand and the silence of the mountains… I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.
Pack less, explore more
After that, I was hooked. Bivvying opened up a world of light and stealthy adventures. Bivvy bags weigh less than a tent, so I can get away with a smaller backpack and a more minimal setup, allowing for more time on the trail. In a rare pocket of good weather one summer in the Lake District, I walked the Cumbria Way in 4 days with a 28L backpack, bivvying along the way, hiding behind boulders on lake shores or nestled among the grass on river banks. To keep midges at bay when camping by water, I slept with a bug net over my head, still able to stargaze.
Bugs and bad weather… a little discomfort is good for you
Slugs and bugs haven’t been as much of a problem as I thought, but they are my nemesis… I‘ve woken up surrounded by a small, slimy army, but none ‘on’ me yet - and if they were doing the cha cha slide on my bivvy in the night then… what I don’t know can’t hurt me, right?
One way to avoid the slugs is a beach bivvy, and these are my favourite bivvy camps! I bivvied most of the Anglesey Coast Path, sleeping in quiet coves, careful of tide times, one evening watching a pair of dolphins cross a bay, barely a ripple in the pastel milky calm water.
These are the moments that I bivvy for, but sometimes being caught out in our changeable weather can offer its own magical moments. I don’t mind feeling a bit of drizzle on my cheeks, or moving my bivvy under a tree or an overhanging rock, watching the rain patter and the air heavy with its scent. It’s Britain, and you’re not guaranteed good weather, but in a bivvy bag you are guaranteed a feeling of ‘oneness’ with nature and a freeing experience you can’t quite achieve in a tent.
