I camped a lot when I was in my early 20s, it was living in a tent or not going away, so no choice really. I camped on the north west of Scotland, mostly between September and March, outside of the tourist and bug seasons. It taught me how important it is to stay dry, being cold and wet is a miserable and dangerous experience. Eventually you get tired of listening to the rain on the tent and the BBC on the radio and reading a book and are driven out in to the weather. After a while any shelter is welcome. I knew a few places where the rocks formed a dry overhang, sometimes I'd go there and light a fire and sit and watch the world go by on the Sound of Sleat. Wood smoke and salt air are very evocative for me. Being properly warm and dry on a foul day is some kind of special treat.