Campfire’s Burning

It’s been a long time since I last had a proper campfire. We’ve built fires relatively recently, I’ve taught my kids how to build fires relatively recently, but a campfire campfire – not since Covid. 

But all that changed in the past few days; a long overdue homecoming finally happened, and in a muddy field just outside of Chapeltown, with the setting sun as a backdrop, I was transported back in time.

For those who haven’t experienced the joys of a truly authentic campfire, picture the scene. 

Imagine a gaggle of hundreds of kids, teenagers and their adult guardians sitting on a circle of logs in the middle of the woods. At the centre, a tall tower of meticulously stacked wood, a silent choreography of materials ready to spring to life with a single spark. Ponchos and raincoats adorned near-universally, the occasional camp blanket bringing stories of dozens of previous campfires all into this one crucible of chaos. A simple gathering, yet one ready to be roused with music, laughter and magic.

If you couldn’t tell, I love a campfire. There’s just something so unifying and comforting about bringing people together around a fire, simply to dance, sing and forget the wider world; in the campfire circle, for a short period of time, the rest of the world ceases to exist. For most, you can’t even feel the heat of it, but the warmth of friendship, camaraderie and the joint ventures everyone in that circle has just been on is enough to warm any cold toes or frozen fingers.

It’s the mixing of serious and silly that gets so many. One second, you’re watching flames taller than you arc through the air, spewing ash and smoke that stings your eyes and leaves you spluttering, and the next you’re singing about camels with five humps, beavers’ teeth and purple stews. Nothing can rival the panic of the campfire leader looking for ‘volunteers’ to join in at the front, but the joy when it turns out to be someone you know. As the rain falls, the wind blows and darkness etches ever-closer, you never notice as you’re standing on one leg, sticking your tongue out, tucking your elbows in and spinning in a circle, all whilst belting some gibberish at

the top of your lungs into the world beyond.

But this being my first proper campfire in a very long time, it’s the magic that it seemed I had missed most. I had forgotten just how perfect a campfire could be in curing almost any ailment and lifting the spirits. But nothing can beat seeing this feeling, but for the very first time, in the faces and smiles of the kids all around that circle, in awe at the climbing flames. The young people, camping for the first time, for many away from home, and mum and dad, for the first time, who in a short second forget the cold, forget the rain and simply live in that moment.

I may be biased, but nothing can beat a campfire. The cosiness, the friendship and the bonds forged in those flames are unlike any from anywhere else. And seeing the magic I see, but in the eyes of a child, in the same place I would have been almost two decades ago, is a moment, a core memory, that proves it’s not just in my head.

For those who haven’t been in a while, it’s time to go back. For those who have never been to a full-on campfire, it’s time to change that.

Written by, Sophie Layton (she/her)