(1) Classically interpreted, in trailspeak, a "love nest" is two sleeping bags zipped together.
Sometimes, however, this doesn't work quite as well as planned, and then what do you do, unzip your half of the pod and sort of nonchalantly scooch over to the other side of the tent and hope you won't be missed?
Maybe.
How the exact scenario plays out can depend a lot on whether anyone in the immediate neighborhood is reaching for a knife at the time.
(2) A tent.
Even if you are alone this can still work.
Even a bivy sack can work, if you have the right kind of imagination and put your mind to it, whether you have friends or not. Etc.
(3) A shallow recess or niche in a cliff. An overhang. Space under a cedar tree. Dense covering shrubbery. Anywhere, anything handy that will get you out sight and/or out of the wind and rain, so you have enough privacy to do the stuff you need to do. Whatever it happens to be. We're not asking.
(4) Codpiece.
(5) Your bed at home, which you suddenly get this intense, almost romantic longing for, after you've been on the trail for a while.
You remember its soft touch, its gentle embrace, its warmth. Its cleanliness. The way you snuggled the pillow and it snuggled back.
You recall those endless nights of bliss, when you snored like a wart hog and the bed not only accepted you without reservation but seemed to beg for more.
You yearn for the times when you woke, not in the dark, in the wilderness, with hordes of flies waiting for you in the trees, in the grass, in the bushes, but well after the sun was already up, when you woke rested, refreshed, comfy, yet able (and sometimes willing) to relapse at any moment, to nap again with wild abandon, if the impulse took you.
Well, that's gone now. Gone now. Long gone. Now your life is dirt and sweat and dust and bugs. No love, no nest.
Example: "It could get cold tonight. Let's get into our new love nest and see if it works. Luckily I brought one big enough for all six of us."
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@gmail.com
Me? Never actually had the opportunity.
Etc...
so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction
definitions: outdoor terms
fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves
boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks
snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity
last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer
noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals