Ok, here’s the scenario: It’s 11:30pm and you just arrived into a foreign city. All of the hostels are closed. You have a tent, but there aren’t any designated campsites in the area. What do you do?

You could sleep in the dirty train station or share a park bench with the local drunkard who hasn’t showered since WWII, but why not use what you’ve already got? With campsites in both remote and crowded areas, Europe is an excellent place to camp. However, there might be times where you’re unable to locate a ‘proper’ camping location and you’ll have to improvise. In some areas of Europe, if you use good judgment you can camp in areas I like to call ‘non-designated campsites.’ (This is a much better name than ‘private property’)

Finding a good non-designated campsite (NDC) takes a little bit of skill. If not done properly, you could meet some people you never intended to run into who might yell and chase you with a broom. You could end up being rudely woken by an upset property owner, a drunkard, the local police, or - even worse - someone who wants to physically harm you. Now maybe I'm coming off a little strong. Let me give you one of my only examples of how I chose a non-designated campsite on my trip to Europe in the fall of 2001. This might put you at ease.

I jumped off the train in Fondi, Italy. A place so barren, the only "hot spot" was the train station. I imagine that the guy who chose the locations for the train stations must have been drunk when he chose Fondi. Motivated by a wet and muddy dog who tried to hump my leg, I just started hiking with no particular destination in mind. I ended up down on the beach (Sperlonga) and started scouting out for a place to pitch my tent. The map in the train station back in Fondi showed a campsite, but I didn't trust any map that looked older than me. So without any luck finding the ‘official’ campsite, I headed down on the beach in search of a non-designated one. Here's a small list of some important questions I ask myself when I’m scouting around for a NDC:

• Is it on dry land? Low lying land in the wet season could mean your tent transforms into an unexpected waterbed after a little bit of rain. Scout around for land that doesn’t look like it would become a makeshift streambed if it rains.
• Is it inconspicuous? You don't want every schmoe and their brother seeing your tent. Especially if that schmoe is not very nice and might want to take some of your money without asking. Find a place that's out of the way. Preferably away from a street & sidewalks (less traffic = better sleep).
• Is it on flat & soft ground? Not that I'm the male thesis of The Princess & The Pea, but I can't stand a few inconveniently placed twigs and/or rocks jabbing me in the side from underneath my tent when I'm trying to camp. Nor can I handle sleeping at an angle and having my blood rush to my head or feet, depending on which way I'm slanting. If you find that you have no choice, set up a large rock at the lower end of your tent and sleep with your feet against the rock. That way you won’t gradually slide down the slope while you sleep.
• Who would care?? You need to ask yourself this when you think you've found a good spot to pitch your tent. Would anyone care if they found you there? Maybe the owner of the land? A concerned neighbor? The *gasp* POLICIA??? If at all possible, be a little extroverted and find out. See if the owner is around, smile and ask if you can borrow 5 square feet of his/her land for an evening. You'd be surprised on how friendly they might be.

In Sperlonga while searching for a NDG, I saw from a distance a piece of property right on the beach: an acre of beach grass wedged between two beach houses. I found myself on this land ‘field-testing’ it (pun intended) by asking the questions mentioned above. I stood on the spot looking for a flat, dry, soft, inconspicuous, and safe place to pitch my tent.

Unfortunately, it didn't look good. What looked like beach grass from a distance was in fact tough weeds sprouting sharp pricklies designed to latch onto anything. The area was on a gentle slope, but not gentle enough to sleep on. And as I scouted the site, I noticed a few concerned neighbors eyeing me from their patio.

With a few dozen pricklies burrowed into my shoes and socks, I approached the neighbors and asked them if I could camp on the property right next to them. They, of course, didn't speak a word of English and I didn't speak more than a few words of terribly pronounced Italian. Nonetheless, they understood my intentions and nodded their approval – I think.

As I started walking away, I believe they said to me in Italian that I shouldn’t have to sleep in a field of weeds and I should set up my tent on their property. And best of all, their backyard met all of my characteristics for a great non-designated campsite. In the evening, I was served a plate of pasta and a liter of Coke. I learned quickly the definition of Italian hospitality.

For more on this story, check out this page on my site.