Reservation No-Shows: Hoarding Sites Others Desperately Want It’s 7:01 p.m. on a perfect Friday evening. Somewhere, a family is gathered around a crackling campfire, toasting marshmallows under a star-dusted sky. But at the nearby campground, Site 14 sits empty. Not just tonight—it’ll sit empty all weekend. Not because of weather, an emergency, or a sudden change of heart. It sits empty because someone booked it months ago and simply… didn’t show up. Welcome to one of the most infuriating, yet entirely preventable, scandals of the modern outdoor experience: the reservation no-show. This isn’t a simple oversight. It’s digital-age hoarding. It’s the outdoor equivalent of ordering five entrees just to take a bite of one and sending the rest to the landfill while someone else starves outside. With a few clicks on a booking platform, someone has locked down a precious piece of public land, a site another family desperately wanted, and then treated that reservation with the respect of a used...

THE SILENT STOMPERS: WHY WALKING THROUGH MY SITE WITHOUT A NOD MAKES YOU A CAMPGROUND CASUALTY (And How Your Rudeness is Killing the Camper Code) Let’s talk about the footpath freelancers. The oblivious asphalt assassins. The Site-Seeing Savages who treat my carefully claimed patch of paradise – my tent, my camp chair, my sizzling steak – like it’s nothing more than a convenient shortcut to the damn bathrooms. You know who you are. You emerge from between the pines or stride confidently across the gravel, eyes fixed dead ahead or glued to your phone, boots crunching right past my morning coffee cup like you’re on some urgent, invisible mission. And the absolute, soul-crushing GALL of it? Not even a flicker of eye contact. Not the ghost of a nod. Nothing. It’s not about owning the dirt, Karen. It’s about the UNWRITTEN CODE! That sacred, unspoken camper covenant thicker than bug spray! A campsite, for however brief a time, is someone’s home. It’s where we shed the city skin, unwind, and ...