Camping

A pox on both RV campers and those who pitch tents (“Diamonds in the Rough,” Sept. 7), who do nothing but sit around overcrowded campgrounds.

Real campers leave their vehicles at the trail head. With an ultra-light goose-down bag that rolls up to the size of a loaf of French bread, the backpacker sees stars without the obfuscating interference of campfires and Coleman lamps. For potty needs, all share a narrow-blade garden trowel and roll of toilet paper that fits neatly over the handle. A small squeeze bottle of dishwashing detergent takes care of cleaning both bodies and utensils. You rinse off in the stream and old Sol towels you dry. Best of all, in the morning you head for new scenery.

Since Sharon Stone and Brad Pitt are not likely to come down the trail, men don’t shave and women pin their hair back and leave makeup at home. A 45-pound pack will last a week. Also, the backpacker’s code--”pack it in, pack it out”--virtually guarantees the absence of trash anywhere. If more people camped this way, there would be fewer potbellied men and thunder-thighed women fighting over the couch. Only for the young, you say? Don’t tell that to a 64-year-old grandfather.

F.G. WOOD

Bakersfield