Tent camping again

Does a yurt count as a tent? Canvas walls and roof held up by sticks?

Whatever its classification, I'd never stayed in one. So I went to Mt. Madonna County Park, west of Gilroy, California, to see what it was all about.

Check-in was laughably simple. I pulled up at the kiosk and told the ranger I had a reservation for a yurt.

Without looking at a list or anything, he asked, "Number 134?"

"Yes."

"Okay. It's in the loop to your right. The key is under the doormat."

And that was it. No paperwork, no ID. Have a nice stay.

The online instructions said to supply your own bedding. No problem, since it's always with me anyway. There were vinyl covered mattresses on the bunks. They looked hard and chilly. So I brought in my plush foam mattress from the Rolling Steel tent. A mattress on a mattress—a Princess and the Pea moment. I slept great.

It was a short walk to the flush toilets that, unlike some places I stayed, had soap dispensers and hand dryers. It was a slightly longer walk to the showers, which were free. Though the yurt had an electric ceiling light, there were no outlets. These yurts probably date back to the pre-digital age. We're supposed to be roughing it, after all.

Tall trees and lots of shade make it a little hard for the solar panels to do their job. If I were to stay more than one day I'd need to drive to a sunny spot for a few hours. That wouldn't be a problem in the yurt's treeless country of origin.