Me in my glamping tent off the coast of Manhattan.
When Governors Island first offered glamping a few years ago, an English neighbor was beside herself.
“Have you heard of this?” she asked, referring to an article in the Gothamist. “It’s camping for people who consider themselves too glamorous to make an effort.”
Glamping, described by the Urban Dictionary as “glamorous camping,” did sound ridiculous. How dare lazy Americans — like The Great Gatsby’s Tom and Daisy Buchanon — amuse themselves on 1,500 thread count sheets in nature.
The better question is: How can I get involved?
An acquaintance of mine glamped in Africa, where according to glamping.com, prices can range from $70 a night in Western Cape, South Africa, to $2,989 a night in Hoedspruit, South Africa. An ice hotel in Kiruna, Sweden, (still considered glamping) costs $138 a night while a tented villa in Phang-Nga, Thailand, starts at $340.
I would love to travel to those places one day. For now, I prefer domestic tourism, like so many of the virus-fatigued who chose destinations close to home, according to ecobnb.com and Forbes.
Local glamping, with its promise of minimal travel and light baggage sounded — um, like something I wanted to do one day — perhaps in the midst of a global pandemic when this moment — and now this moment — and now this one — could be my last.
Truthfully, I had fantasized about a WiFi-meets-wilderness staycation ever since my neighbor mentioned the trend. I love Governors Island, a former military base, featuring abandoned buildings, funky art installations, and head-on-views of the Statue of Liberty and Lower Manhattan. What an interesting concept, to be temporarily committed to one place as a spot of study and reflection.
The Collective Retreat glampground as seen from a nearby rock garden.
In addition to the Governors Island site, Collective Retreats runs three other glampgrounds. Each follows a basic model of restaurant and tents with regionally appropriate decor. There are southwest-style rugs in the Austin location, antler chandeliers in the Yellowstone retreat, and log beds in the Vail setup.
As I looked into weekend prices for one night on Governors Island, around $699 for a Summit tent, or $689 for a King outdoor shelter with a closer view of the Statue of Liberty head-on. A Journey+ Tent, what Collective Retreats describes as the “little sibling” to the larger and slightly more posh Summit Tent, was more in my budget, somewhere in the mid-$300 range depending on the day. The main difference between the Summit and the Journey is that the Summit is bigger with more decorative lighting features and an “en-suite bathroom” that is on the same platform as the tent.
Even the Journey was pricey for one night.
Was it worth it?
Yes! I booked a room for the first weekend in October. Here’s why: I may not be traveling at all during the upcoming holidays to avoid complications due to the coronavirus. I love campfires and clever gear. What’s wrong with getting close to nature in an urban setting in a new and interesting way?
I’m a single woman. Getting New Yorkers to camp with me is adorable, meaning that it won’t happen without meaningful threats. Camping alone is fun but not a great idea. Once when I set up in a campground near the Appalachian Trail, a pal, who lived nearby, told me this: “If you’re getting murdered, just call out to us. We’re close.” That’s a problematic statement right there.
I have golden memories of car camping with my entire family — and I mean my entire extended family back in Indiana in the 1970s and 1980s. We weren’t purists by any stretch, but purists are often irritating, not fun at parties. We were lawn chair people who thought nothing of lounging around a fire to roast peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. We even had an assortment of round and square pudgie pie makers to mold the bread into toastie shapes.
We weren’t glampers though. We swatted mosquitos all night and learned to either pee in the woods or tiptoe through nasty communal bathrooms.
When I arrived on Governors Island via ferry from southern Manhattan, employees from Collective Retreats greeted me with a company sign and asked that I hop onto the golf cart.
The golf cart from the ferry to Collective Retreats. Check-in for new arrivals is 3 PM.
Once onboard with another couple, we ambled through students from the New York Harbor School, a public high school specializing in maritime education. It was Friday, and they were headed home on the ferry. “Excuse me, please,” our driver called out to them. They were wearing navy New York Harbor School, blissfully unaware of the glamp-i-fiers on their island.
Approaching the glampground.
Once we entered the gates of the mini campus, I giggled at the lawn games. They have cornhole? I love cornhole!
The firepits. See the Statue of Liberty? And my shadow?
An attendant at the concierge tent gave me a wrist band and an itinerary, which included live music, gourmet s’mores around a firepit, and morning yoga on the yoga platform.
Then the golf cart driver drove me past the shared bathrooms, a grouping of individual tents overseen by an attendant. The tent flaps were open to reveal bouquets and herbal soaps and lotions on the sinks.
Shared bathrooms. Each features a flushing toilet and a shower with hot running water.
Like characters in Mister Rogers’ Land of Make Believe, not traveling very far at all, we drove to my tent: Journey 1. We needed a bouncy theme song for this venture.
Journey 1, my home for the night.
Oh. My. God. My tent was delicious with a heater, a woven rug, matching lamps, a dining area, a tea and coffee section, a king-size bed, and a porch! I danced around the room looking through the nightstand drawers and zipping the windows up and down.
My bed.
From my bed, when I lay in it, I could see Ellis Island!
Lying in bed and watching the boats!
For the next two hours, I sat on my porch and watched the ease of the seagulls, the clouds, the sail boats, and the patch of sea grass just a few feet away. I had “Song of Myself” in my lap and read occasional verses, falling into the lull of Walt Whitman and New York Harbor. “I loafe and invite my soul,” he writes. “I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.”
Around 5, I got a text from the concierge asking if I would join the happy good-looking couples in the restaurant tent. To save money, I had snuck in food and ate on the yoga platform.
When the red sun set, Lady Liberty blazed as green as the colors in a velvet art painting. All lit up, the Staten Island ferries were like giant orange wedding cakes. Ridiculously romantic and transcendental. I felt the spirit of a hundred generations.
After nightfall, I roasted marshmallows from a personal s’mores kit from the Gourmet S’mores Pantry. Included were the obligatory graham crackers, marshmallows, and Ghirardelli chocolate. No Hersey bars for us, thank you very much. Wooden stick in hand, I greeted my neighbors, who sat on Adirondack chairs around four different firepits. Most were from Brooklyn, Long Island, New Jersey, and Connecticut. The consensus was that no one wanted to travel far for a unique experience.
One couple was staying in the hard-topped shelter, the crème de la crème. Another was in one of the Summit tents nearest the Statue of Liberty. Yes, the view and the in-house bathrooms were worth the extra price, but party boat traffic was noisy on a Saturday night.
I should have slept well. The weather got a bit chilly, just a bit. The bed was a warm cloud. The harbor birds made lovely sounds outside. But I just couldn’t orient myself. My body felt like it was in a hotel bed. Yet instead of a television, I had an exceptional view of America that looked like a moving jigsaw puzzle. It was just so weird.
Yoga the next morning was fabulous. The teacher was from BK Yoga Club, a body-positive yoga place in Brooklyn. Apparently, staff people take an exclusive employee-only ferry in the morning. When I went back to my tent, to lie in bed once more and watch the harbor, my breakfast was waiting for me in a basket.
I got artisanal cheeses, yogurt and strawberries, orange juice, and many cute pastries. I set up on the table in my dining area, the screened area between my porch and the bedroom. I could not stop smiling at the children running around the main lawn, where hammocks and lawn games called out to me too. Coffee in my tent’s French press was so-so, a little too strong and fancy for my Dunkin’ Donuts taste.
Hammocks and lawn games. The hammocks were a little unbalanced. I kept falling out.
And the bees started gathering around my breakfast remains, as they did on other uncollected baskets all over the glampground. While all the staff were beyond polite and friendly, there is still a national labor shortage after all. Translation: Sometimes messes were left alone for a while before they were cleaned up.
Collective Retreats shuts a flimsy fence around the compound at night, to keep guests from wandering the island’s abandoned buildings, including a YMCA and a movie theater. Gates open in the early morning, the perfect time to explore the rock formations, the educational farm, and the Yard, where children are allowed to play without adult suggestions.
No heliocopter parents allowed. The Yard is open 12 to 4 PM on weekends.
Check out the new art installation by Shantell Martin in the Lady of the Sea military church. Note that attendants in all indoor settings require proof of vaccination before guests can enter.
Kids on the retreat took to their rental bikes. And parents looked thrilled to experience the city while not worrying about oncoming traffic.
I took a hot shower in a shared bathroom and kept smelling my skin. I love all those smelly smell-goods.
Hours later, I was back in Manhattan, rested and restored to my best humor.
Other things to consider:
For the Halloween season, there is a Games Tent featuring a Collective Candy Bar. Note that Collective Retreats closes on the last day of October and opens again in May.
Year-round tenants on Governors Island include the New York Harbor School, the Lower Manhattan Cultural Council’s Art Center, overnight residency programs from Shandaken Projects and the Institute for Public Architecture, and the soon-to-be completed QC Terme day spa.
Not wanting to stay the night? Visit the Fire & Water restaurant to get a taste of the glampground.
The Collective Retreats website is so gorgeous that it’s almost distracting. I found it hard to navigate all the features: from restaurant reservations to special classes with the chef. For a cut-and-dry reservation, try booking.com.
Consider the weather if you’re meeting up with a large group. One guest I spoke to said this was her third year coming to the island. On one trip, storms had blown tents off their platforms, and Collective Retreats had to cancel all reservations.
Two nights would be ideal to really experience Governors Island and the glampground. Three nights would be too much. One night has me wanting more.
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