I grew up in Wyoming, which is one of those big square states out West. In Wyoming, wild animals outnumber people by about 100-to-1, and that's part of its beauty. Within about a half hour from any Wyoming municipality, you can set up a tent in relative wilderness, not within a mile of any other human being. You can sleep under a billion stars and freeze your butt ... all in mid-July. And when Nature calls, you have the whole forest to yourself.
But for some folks, "roughing it" means the personal chef is off, the valet is a minute late with the car, and the maid missed a dust bunny in the corner. These are the kind of people who never ate a trout sauteed in cheap butter in a cast-iron skillet over an open fire ... and never will. They'll never swim in a "dirty" mountain stream unless the cabana boy skims it first.
Nonetheless, those folks like to get outside every so often. And when they do, they are likely to go "glamping" -- the wussy word for "glamorous camping." And, of course, where there's a million dollars, there's a way.
Many luxury "camps" have sprouted up, like Paws Up in Montana, profiled in part in the LA Times this weekend. They feature posh accommodations that run as high as $3,460 a night, but really adventurous richies can sleep in a tent for only $595 a night (plus $110 if you want food.) One of Paws Up's tents is pictured here.
"It's OK to be spoiled, it really is," one glamper told the Times' reporter. "It's nature on a silver platter."
Lord help us. I bet they don't even wipe their bums with aspen leaves.