My first night camping abroad was in New Zealand, in a Department of Conservation campsite on the edge of Abel Tasman National Park. I'd paid $15 for the night, pitched my tent under a canopy of tree ferns, and fallen asleep to the sound of the Tasman Sea. I woke up at dawn to a weka (a flightless bird endemic to New Zealand) trying to unzip my tent, and I remember lying there laughing in my sleeping bag, thinking that this was the best $15 I'd ever spent. That was four years ago, and since then I've camped in more than fifteen countries, from the fjords of Norway to the deserts of Namibia. Camping has become my favorite way to travel — not just because it's cheap, but because it forces you to engage with a place in a way that hotels never do.
"The campfire is the main attraction at any campsite." — unknown
New Zealand: The DOC Campsite System
New Zealand's Department of Conservation (DOC) maintains a network of more than 250 campsites across the country, ranging from basic backcountry sites with no facilities to serviced sites with hot showers, kitchens, and electricity. The pricing reflects the level of facilities: basic sites cost $5 to $10 per person per night, standard sites with toilets and running water cost $10 to $15, and serviced sites with showers and kitchens cost $15 to $25. I stayed at a mix of all three during a six-week trip and found that even the basic sites were well-maintained and beautifully located.
The campsite at Whariwharangi, in the Abel Tasman National Park, is one of my favorites — a grassy clearing surrounded by nikau palms and tree ferns, a five-minute walk from a golden-sand beach. It's a basic site with a long-drop toilet and a water tap, and it cost $8 per person per night when I visited. The Anchorage campsite, a few kilometers south along the coast, is a standard site with flush toilets, cold showers, and a cooking shelter, costing $15 per person. Both can be booked online through the DOC website, which I'd recommend during the December-to-February peak season, as the popular sites fill up weeks in advance.
For backcountry camping, New Zealand requires a Backcountry Hut Pass ($92 per year for unlimited access to most backcountry huts) or individual hut tickets ($5 to $15 per night). The huts range from basic three-sided shelters to well-equipped bunkhouses with mattresses, wood stoves, and running water. I stayed in the Angelus Hut on the Routeburn Track, a 28-bunk hut at 1,380 meters elevation with views of the Darran Mountains, and the experience of cooking dinner with other trampers while the sun set over the peaks was one of the highlights of my entire trip.
Scandinavia: The Right to Roam
Scandinavia's allemansratten (Sweden), friluftsliv (Norway), and jokamiehenoikeus (Finland) — all roughly translating to 'every person's right' — give anyone the legal right to camp on uncultivated land for up to two nights, provided you stay at least 150 meters from the nearest dwelling and leave no trace. This means you can pitch your tent on a mountainside, beside a lake, or in a forest practically anywhere in Sweden, Norway, or Finland, free of charge. It is one of the most generous public access policies in the world, and it transforms the entire Scene into a potential campsite.
I spent three weeks camping in Norway's Lofoten Islands, pitching my tent on rocky headlands above the Norwegian Sea, on grassy meadows below jagged peaks, and on sandy beaches that would be crowded resort destinations anywhere else in Europe. The wild camping was free, but I supplemented it with occasional nights at established campsites when I needed showers and laundry. The Lofoten campsites charge 150 to 250 Norwegian kroner ($14 to $23) per night for a tent site with access to toilets, hot showers, and a kitchen. I particularly liked the campsite at Uttakleiv, a small site on a white-sand beach with views of the open ocean, where I watched the northern lights from the door of my tent in late September.
The practical considerations for Scandinavian camping are different from what you might expect. The primary challenge is not finding a campsite — it's dealing with the weather. Norway's coastal areas can experience four seasons in a single day, and I learned to always set up my tent with the rain fly on, even when the sky was clear. A good four-season tent is essential — I use a Hilleberg Anjan 2 ($650), which has handled Norwegian wind, rain, and even light snow without complaint. A warm sleeping bag rated to at least minus 5 degrees Celsius is necessary from September through May, and a good sleeping pad with an R-value of 4 or higher makes an enormous difference in comfort.
United States National Park Campgrounds
The United States National Park Service operates more than 400 campgrounds across the park system, offering everything from primitive backcountry sites to full-hookup RV parks. For tent campers, the most relevant are the developed campgrounds, which typically provide a tent pad, a picnic table, a fire ring, and access to flush toilets and potable water. Prices range from $15 to $30 per night, depending on the park and the level of facilities. I've camped in roughly twenty national parks, and the campgrounds are consistently well-maintained and beautifully located.
My favorite national park campground is the North Pines campground in Yosemite Valley, where I paid $26 per night for a site under towering ponderosa pines with a view of Half Dome. The campground has flush toilets, potable water, bear-proof food lockers (essential — black bears are active in the valley every night), and is walking distance from the trailheads for some of Yosemite's best hikes. Reservations open six months in advance through Recreation.gov, and the most popular campgrounds sell out within minutes. I booked my North Pines site at exactly 7 AM Pacific time on the day reservations opened, and it was already 70 percent full.
For first-come, first-served campgrounds, arriving early is critical. I've arrived at 2 PM at first-come, first-served campgrounds in Zion, Joshua Tree, and Grand Teton and found them full. The strategy that works best is to arrive by 10 AM on a weekday, when there's the highest chance of finding an open site as the previous night's campers leave. Weekends and holidays are much harder. If you can't get a site inside the park, look for national forest campgrounds or Bureau of Land Management (BLM) land just outside the park boundaries — these are often free or very cheap ($5 to $10) and can be just as scenic.
Africa: Safari Camping on a Budget
Camping in Africa's national parks and game reserves offers one of the most immersive wildlife experiences available anywhere, and it costs a fraction of what a lodge safari would. I camped for two weeks in Tanzania, splitting time between public campsites in Serengeti National Park and the Ngorongoro Conservation Area. The public campsites cost $30 to $50 per person per night, including park fees, and provide basic facilities — long-drop toilets, cold showers, and a place to build a fire. You bring your own tent, food, and cooking equipment, and the campsite manager provides a security guard who watches for animals throughout the night.
The experience of lying in a tent in the Serengeti and listening to lions roaring in the distance, hyenas whooping, and zebras braying is something no lodge can replicate. On my second night in the Seronera campsite, I woke up at 3 AM to the sound of something large moving through the camp. I unzipped my tent fly carefully and saw a hippopotamus grazing about ten meters from my tent. The camp manager later told me that hippos come into camp almost every night to eat the grass, and that they're far more dangerous than the lions — hippos kill more people in Africa than any other large animal. I slept with my headlamp within reach for the rest of the trip.
For a more comfortable camping experience, many African parks have 'special campsites' that are reserved for a single group and include a cook, a tent attendant, and sometimes a private guide. These cost $100 to $200 per person per night, which sounds expensive until you compare it to the $400 to $1,000 per night that lodges in the same parks charge. I spent one night at a special campsite in the Ngorongoro Crater, and the combination of privacy, good food prepared by the camp cook, and the knowledge that no other tourists were within miles made it feel like genuine luxury at a fraction of the lodge price.
Essential Camping Gear for International Travel
Your camping gear needs to be lightweight, durable, and packable enough to fit in a regular suitcase or backpack. After years of experimenting with different setups, I've settled on a kit that weighs about 7 kilograms total and fits in a 40-liter duffel bag. The core items: a two-person tent (Hilleberg Anjan 2, 1.5 kg), a down sleeping bag rated to minus 5 degrees (Western Mountaineering UltraLite, 850 grams), an inflatable sleeping pad with an R-value of 4.2 (Therm-a-Rest NeoAir XTherm, 425 grams), a canister stove (MSR PocketRocket 2, 85 grams), a 1-liter titanium pot (Snow Peak Trek 900, 150 grams), and a headlamp (Petzl Actik Core, 75 grams).
The tent is the single most important piece of gear, and it's worth investing in a quality one. Cheap tents from big-box stores are fine for backyard camping in mild weather, but they won't survive sustained wind, heavy rain, or the wear and tear of international travel. A good three-season tent should have a full-coverage rain fly, a bathtub-style floor that comes up the sides to prevent water seepage, and aluminum poles rather than fiberglass (aluminum is lighter and far more durable). Expect to spend $300 to $700 for a quality tent that will last for years. The Hilleberg Anjan 2 that I use has been through rainstorms in Patagonia, windstorms in Iceland, and heatwaves in Australia, and it still performs like new.
A sleeping bag is the second critical item, and the choice between down and synthetic fill depends on where you're going. Down is lighter, more compressible, and more durable, but it loses its insulating properties when wet. Synthetic fill retains warmth when damp and dries faster, but it's bulkier and heavier. For most international camping trips, I recommend a down bag with a water-resistant shell — it packs small enough for carry-on luggage and provides the best warmth-to-weight ratio. Pair it with a silk or cotton liner (adds about 5 degrees of warmth and keeps the bag clean) and a good sleeping pad, which is more important for warmth than most people realize — the ground conducts heat away from your body much faster than the air above.
Budget Camping in Southeast Asia
Southeast Asia is not a region that most people associate with camping, but it offers some surprisingly rewarding opportunities for travelers willing to look beyond the guesthouse circuit. In Thailand, Khao Sok National Park in southern Thailand has floating bungalows on Cheow Lan Lake ($30 to $60 per night for a basic bamboo raft with a mattress and mosquito net) and tent platforms on the lakeshore ($10 to $15 per night). I spent two nights on a floating raft, falling asleep to the sound of gibbons calling across the valley, and waking up to mist rising off the water at dawn. It was one of the most atmospheric camping experiences I've had anywhere.
In Vietnam, the Phong Nha-Ke Bang National Park offers basic camping on the banks of the Son River for about $5 per night. The nearby Phong Nha Farmstay and Easy Tiger hostel organize camping trips to remote caves and jungle clearings that include transportation, equipment, food, and a guide for $25 to $40 per person per night. I joined a two-day trip to Hang En cave, the third-largest cave in the world, where we camped inside the cave entrance on a sandy beach beside an underground river. The cave is so large that it has its own microclimate — clouds form near the ceiling and rain falls inside the cave from condensation. The trip cost $120 including all meals, equipment, and guide fees, and it remains the most extraordinary camping experience of my life.
In Indonesia, the area around Mount Bromo in East Java has informal campsites on the volcanic sand plains where you can pitch a tent and watch the sunrise over the smoking crater. I paid a local guide $20 to take me to a campsite on the edge of the Tengger caldera, where I spent the night under one of the clearest skies I've ever seen. The temperature dropped to near freezing after midnight, and I was grateful for my down sleeping bag. At 4 AM, the guide woke me and we hiked to the viewpoint for sunrise, where the first light illuminated the smoking cone of Mount Bromo and the perfect cone of Mount Semeru in the distance. The entire experience — guide, campsite, transport from the nearest town — cost about $35.
Safety and Leave No Trace Principles
Camping safety is mostly about common sense, but there are a few situations that require specific knowledge. In bear country (which includes most of North America and parts of Europe), store all food, toiletries, and anything with a scent in bear-proof containers or hang it from a tree branch at least three meters off the ground and 150 meters from your tent. Cook and eat at least 60 meters downwind from your sleeping area. Never keep food in your tent. I carry bear spray (Counter Assault, $45) in bear country and know how to use it — the canister should be accessible within two seconds, not buried in your backpack. In Africa, follow your camp manager's instructions about animals — if they tell you not to leave your tent at night, don't leave your tent at night.
Minimizing your environmental impact should guide every decision you make while camping. Pack out everything you pack in — this includes food waste, toilet paper, and hygiene products. In areas without toilets, dig a cathole 15 to 20 centimeters deep and at least 60 meters from any water source. Use biodegradable soap for dishes and bathing, and wash at least 60 meters from streams and lakes. Don't feed wildlife, don't disturb vegetation, and don't move rocks or logs. The goal is to leave the campsite in exactly the same condition you found it, or better. I always carry a small trash bag and pick up any litter I find, even if it's not mine.
Weather is the variable that causes the most problems for campers, and checking forecasts is a daily habit for experienced outdoor travelers. I use the Windy app ($10 per year for premium features) for detailed wind, precipitation, and temperature forecasts, and I always have a backup plan for bad weather — a nearby town with a hostel, a harder-sided shelter, or at minimum a route to lower elevation. Hypothermia is a real risk even in mild temperatures if you're wet and exposed to wind, and it can develop quickly. Carry a rain jacket, a warm layer, and a hat even in summer, and know the signs of hypothermia (shivering, confusion, slurred speech, loss of coordination) in both yourself and your camping companions.
