The first night under a tarp, done wrong and done right

The job

Put up a simple tarp shelter, sleep under it for one night, and wake up dry, warm and in a good mood. Gear is a tarp, a cord, some stakes and a pad. Nothing complicated, which is exactly why it humbles people.

How the rookie does it

4:30 p.m. Arrive at camp. Daylight is plentiful. Spend forty minutes admiring the view.

5:45 p.m. Start looking for the perfect spot. Find a flat, cozy dip between two rises. It feels sheltered. It feels like a decision a smart person made.

6:30 p.m. Tarp is up. The ridgeline sags like a hammock because the knot at one end is not a knot. It's a hopeful tangle. Prop the middle up with a stick and call it "a design choice."

8:15 p.m. Dark. The headlamp is at the bottom of the pack, and the pack is under the tarp, which is now a tent made of regret. Eat dinner by the light of a phone at 11 percent.

9:40 p.m. Rain. The cozy dip turns out to be the place where the rain goes to gather its friends.

1:50 a.m. The sleeping bag is on bare ground. Cold comes straight up through it like it paid for a ticket. My wife said to bring the sleeping pad. I said I'd be fine. She was right. She's usually right, and she was right again about the extra socks.

2:10 a.m. Something large is moving outside. It's a chipmunk. It sounds like a moose.

6:00 a.m. Sunrise. Pack up damp. Tell everybody it was "character-building."

How the veteran does it

3:00 p.m. Arrives early. Doesn't touch the pack. Walks the site slowly, looking up first, then down.

3:10 p.m. Picks a spot on a gentle rise, away from the dead limb hanging over the flat spot like a bad idea.

3:15 p.m. Ground sheet down, pad on top, bag on the pad. Bed first. The shelter goes over the bed.

3:25 p.m. Ridgeline tied between two healthy trees at about chest height, with a knot that cinches and releases. Tarp over the top, windward edge pulled low, back to the wind. Stakes in. Headlamp hung on a loop of cord at head level.

3:30 p.m. Sits down with a cup of coffee. Does nothing for the next hour on purpose.

9:40 p.m. Rain starts. He's already asleep.

What the veteran knows

1. Look up before you look down. Dead branches and leaning trees come down without warning, in wind and sometimes in dead calm. Never pitch under one, and don't tie off to anything that's dead or shallow-rooted. If a site makes you nervous, it's the wrong site. Move.

1. High ground beats the cozy dip. Cold air settles in low spots and so does water. Stay out of dry creek beds and gullies, which can flood from rain you never see fall. A slight rise with a little slope is all you need.

1. The ground steals more heat than the air does. A sleeping pad matters more than the bag. A closed-cell foam pad runs about $25 to $45. An inflatable one runs $50 to $150 and packs smaller. For cool three-season nights, look for an R-value of about 3 or higher. A cheap polyethylene ground sheet, around $10, keeps damp off the bottom of your gear.

1. Buy the tarp big enough. For one person, 8 by 10 feet is the floor and 10 by 10 gives you room for your pack. A silnylon or polyester tarp with reinforced tie-outs runs roughly $40 to $100. A $20 hardware-store poly tarp works for a backyard test, but the grommets tear, so don't trust it in wind. Add 50 feet of 550 cord for about $10 and a set of stakes for another $10.

1. Pitch low and angle it. An A-frame with the closed end into the wind and the windward edge about 6 to 8 inches off the ground sheds rain and wind. Learn two knots: one that slides and cinches for the ridgeline, and one that doesn't slip for the anchor. Tie them ten times in your living room before you need them in the dark.

1. Never run a stove, lantern or fire under the tarp. Nylon melts and burns. Carbon monoxide builds up under any cover and can kill you in your sleep. Cook well away from the shelter, and check current fire rules for where you're camping, because restrictions change by place and season.

1. Cut away from yourself, sitting down. If you're trimming cord or a stake with a knife, sit, keep the blade moving away from your body and legs, and never cut toward a hand holding the work. Dull knives slip. Keep yours sharp.

1. Tell someone your plan. Where you're going, when you'll be back, and when they should call for help if you aren't. If you do get turned around, the first hour you're lost in the woods decides most of how the rest goes. And a hands-on wilderness first aid course from a qualified instructor, usually a weekend, is worth more than any gadget in your pack.

Your first time, done like a veteran

• Pitch the whole shelter in your backyard first. Sleep in it once, forty feet from your back door.
• Check the forecast. A first night is not the night to test rain and wind.
• Arrive with two to three hours of daylight. Not one.
• Look up, look down, then choose the spot.
• Lay out the ground sheet and pad before you touch the tarp.
• Keep a headlamp in your pocket, not in the pack.
• Pack a spare pair of dry socks. Somebody told you to. They were right.
• Leave the stove and fire well away from the shelter.
• If you carry a firearm in camp, the four rules apply the same as at the range. Keep it on your person or locked and away from kids, and check local law first, since carry rules change at the state line and again on different kinds of public land. Nothing here is legal advice. Ask a qualified attorney or instructor.
• Tell somebody where you'll be.

The veteran doesn't sleep better because he's tougher. He sleeps better because he did his worrying at 3 p.m.