OUTDOORS
Glamping in Utah: Luxury can be rough
BY ANDREA SACHS The Washington Post
At Conestoga Ranch, I stood in the parking lot and eyeballed the distance from the car to our tent, perched on the far reaches of a hill. A manageable walk, especially with my lightened load and the slightly lower elevation of 5,968 feet. As I was consolidating my bags, Seth, the general manager who favored a park ranger’s palette, cruised up in an electric golf cart. Not one to pass up a chauffeured ride, I tossed my backpack — and myself — into the vehicle. The seasonal resort opened seven years ago with 14 Conestoga wagons and 26 canvas tents on the Beehive State side of Bear Lake. Co-owner Larry Bettino said the tents were inspired by African safari camps: rugged structures containing opulent interiors like inside-out Fabergé eggs. He added that the idea of liberating guests from camping duties stemmed from a family vacation at an upscale fishing retreat in Idaho, where the staff handled all of the heavy lifting. “People want to be able to camp and get the camping experience without having to put in all the effort,” he told me a few days after my visit. “If you don’t want to cook, we have a restaurant. The tents are cleaned daily by our staff. We will start and tend the fire for you.” The property overlooking Bear Lake (plus an unsightly flurry of developments) offers four tent styles in ascending levels of luxury. I booked the top-shelf option, the Royal Tent Suite, which came with everything the Montpelier Canyon campground didn’t: heat, WiFi, electricity, modern plumbing. Seth parked by our private deck and unzipped the front door for the theatrical reveal: a king-size bed dressed in pristine white linens. A daring color choice, I thought, as I glanced at the mud on my shoes and the soot on my clothes. He showed us how to use the pellet stove, which we could employ for heat but not cooking. “Text if you run low,” he said as we peered into a bin brimming with wood nubs. We followed him past the mini-fridge, around a partial wall and into the palatial bathroom, where a rain shower in a tin wash basin and a claw-footed tub threatened to derail my plans to bike along the lake trail. We circled back to the deck, where logs lay in a fire pit, ready for a light. Not ignited by me, of course, but by the campfire valet. At check-in, I received a bag with s’mores fixings, but even with that prompt, I still forgot to schedule a fire starter for that evening. Once I was in the tent,
Andrea Sachs
Conestoga Ranch in Garden City, Utah, pampers campers with its high-end tents, such as the Royal Tent Suite, which sits on a hilltop overlooking Bear Lake.
IF YOU GO WHERE TO STAY Conestoga Ranch 427 Paradise Pkwy., Garden City, Utah 844-464-5267, conestogaranch.com This glamping resort, which is open late May through September, offers a variety of accommodations, including Conestoga wagons and canvas tents that can accommodate two, four or six people. Guests in the traditional tents and wagons use the public bathhouse by the main lodge; all other tents (family, couples, Royal) have private en-suite bathrooms. Tents are furnished with beds, pellet stove, mini-fridge and fire pit. Rate includes golf cart luggage transport, fire-starting assistance, s’mores kit, weekend yoga and loaner cruiser bikes that are ideal for pedaling to nearby Bear Lake. the main lodge seemed so ... far ... away. Instead, I texted my request in between courses at the Campfire Grill, the on-site restaurant with its own roaring fire. “Yes, someone can light your fire at that time,” an employee responded minutes before the server
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delivered a heaping plate of grilled vegetables and quinoa. After all the pampering, I started to feel slightly alienated from the natural world, so we decided to incorporate more rugged activities and shoulder more of the camping responsibilities. We drove up to Logan Canyon and hiked the 1.4-mile Limber Pine Nature Trail. At the ranch, I had spotted one deer, twice. In the forest, nutcrackers fluttered by, their wings seemingly dipped in ink pots. A goldenmantled ground squirrel squatting on a log sternly contemplated us. For dinner, we resurrected our aluminum foil and my mittens, and we grilled vegetables and salmon at a communal Rendezvous BBQ Tent. During a rain delay, I received a text informing us that no staff would be available for fire duty after 9 p.m. However, we could light our own if we wished. For the last campfire of the trip, we made (and burned) s’mores, popped (and burned) popcorn and boiled water for tea, a skill we had mastered in Idaho. We slept with the flaps open, holding nature as close as possible. At dawn, I opened my eyes and saw golden streaks over Bear Lake. My gaze fell on the pellet stove, which had turned cold. But instead of relighting it, I did what any intrepid camper would do: I wriggled deeper under the covers.
