The best thing about holidaying with other families can also be the worst
INew friends, old friends, shared experiences, shared supplies. It is a joy worth planning for a year in advance
was packing for a weekend away with several other families when I made the mistake of thinking a bottle of red wine would be safest rolled up in a sleeping bag. I didn’t know most of the families going but I knew the instigators, and that they’d have gathered a great crowd. Those other families probably thought so too – until ours showed up, reeking of wine, in the middle of the day.
It was fine. Really. Compared with the time my husband dislodged a leech in his sleep and we woke to a scene from a horror movie, this sleeping bag, hung out to dry, didn’t look thatbad. The glass was in big chunks so we didn’t worry, after removing it, that splinters might remain. And though the smell did linger, it eased – somewhat – as the sun lodged an attack.
The crowd was so good that no one held any first impressions they might have had against us. Instead we received sympathy and offers of help. One of the many benefits of group holidays is that if you forget something, or break it, or soak it in red wine, you won’t be on your own. The just-in-case types will probably have spare bedding, and spare wine.
I’ve also been on group holidays where medical supplies, vehicles, books and clothing have been shared. As for food and games, this goes without saying. But the best thing that’s shared is the work of parenting; or rather, the work of playing, as children form happy clusters and occupy themselves in ways they almost never do with siblings.
Meanwhile adults enjoy food, conversation and nature in relative peace. The power of other children also means that parents for whom family bushwalks are the stuff of dreams might see their dreams come true. Kids who otherwise lag behind are suddenly in front. It’s hard to talk non-stop to another kid and complain to your parents at the same time – you might as well lead the way instead.
New friends, old friends, shared experiences, shared supplies. It is a joy worth planning for a year in advance – which is about how far ahead you have to plan to find a weekend when multiple families are free and campgrounds have the space. But group holidays are not without risks. In the interests of balance, let me end with a cautionary tale.
We were holidaying with four other families in a national park. We’d had a full day of walking and swimming and talking and laughing – and feasting on fresh local cherries. A few of us were playing a game by the light of our head torches when one of the adults went to take another sip from her cup of tea and aborted, part-way through. At first she looked confused then, peering in her cup, alarmed.
Sharing conversations, experiences and supplies might be the greatest thing about group holidays, but not every kind of sharing brings delight. When we sought an explanation, the friend showed us what was in her camping mug.
Earlier that day some of the group had been using someone else’s empty mug for cherry pits. Making tea in low light, that “someone else” hadn’t noticed her mug was neither clean nor empty.
It wasn’t an experience you’d want to repeat but it is a memory we keep, a story we repeat; an aspect of the holiday that, long after it ended, we still share.
• Emma Wilkins is a Tasmanian journalist and freelance writer