Sometimes the best camping trips are the ones you almost talk yourself out of. A stretch of unusually warm weather in what had been a brutally cold Midwest winter was all the excuse I needed. Winston and I were going winter camping.

The Midwest had been through it. Some areas saw temperatures down to negative 40 degrees Fahrenheit, the kind of cold where sensible people do the bare minimum outdoors and call it a day. We had spent Christmas with my mom, which was a welcome break from the cold. But when a mild weekend opened up on the calendar right at New Year’s Eve, I started looking for a campsite.

Finding a Winter Camping Spot in the Midwest

Most of my usual camping companions were either fighting off colds or had other New Year’s plans, so this was going to be a solo trip with Winston. He is still working on becoming a seasoned camping dog, which means quiet spots with minimal chaos suit him better than busy campgrounds. I needed somewhere calm, not too far from home, and ideally somewhere with a safety net. Camping a couple of hours away means that if something goes sideways you can just pack up and drive home. That matters when you are heading out in January.

I found the spot through Hipcamp, an app that connects campers with private landowners who open their property for overnight stays. It works a lot like VRBO or Airbnb but for camping, and it has become one of my favorite ways to find unique spots off the beaten path. The place I settled on was McCully Heritage Preservation, sitting roughly halfway between home and Saint Louis, about two hours from the house.

New Year’s Eve at the Campsite

I spent New Year’s Eve day collecting and organizing gear, including breaking out a new tent for the first time. There is always a small ritual to packing for a camping trip, checking things off a mental list, loading the truck with more care than a grocery run deserves. Winston supervised and mostly got in the way in the best possible sense.

We were on the road by mid-morning with no particular urgency. The goal was simply to get to camp and enjoy it. Along the way I was notified that a second group would also be camping at the property that night. A car did arrive shortly after we settled in, but they turned around and left within the hour. The second group eventually showed up later in the evening and were pleasantly quiet neighbors.

Upon arrival we took a walk around the property. Winston needed a break after the drive and I wanted to get a feel for the place. The area was neat and well-maintained, with two small ponds and an old cabin adding character to the grounds. I could see it being busy in warmer months. One pond looked like it might fit a kayak, though we were told swimming and canoeing were not permitted for insurance reasons.

While wandering the trails we ran into a young guy from Saint Louis who had driven up to get out of the city for a few hours. He asked about the trails. I did not have a map and had not done much research on that front, which is unlike me, so we compared notes on what little we each knew and went our separate ways.

The Fire, the Sunset, and One Very Tired Dog

Back at camp I finished setting up and got to work on a fire. The recent snow melt had left all of the wood damp, including the kindling I had managed to find on the ground. As any self-respecting former scout should, I lit it with a single match and nursed a small fire to life through sheer patience. Winston helped by stealing the better sticks and giving me a look that suggested he could not understand why I was burning perfectly good chewing material.

Winston eventually gave up on fire supervision and climbed into his seat in the truck for a nap. I tended the fire, cooked an early dinner, and took some time to just sit. The campsite had a pine smell to it even with all the trees bare. As the sun went down on New Year’s Eve, the sky turned a deep pink that no camera would have done justice to. The bird song picked up as the light faded, building into a loud, layered sound that filled the clearing. Even a squirrel came out to add commentary from a nearby tree.

We retired early. The new tent got a proper inspection from Winston, who explored every pocket and corner before claiming most of the sleeping bag for himself. I read for a while and then called it a night.

The Night and the Morning

Winter camping in the Midwest at night is a different experience than camping in warmer months. The woods are quieter in some ways and louder in others. Throughout the night various sounds caught our attention. The most dramatic was a tree coming down somewhere nearby, a slow creak followed by a crash that had my imagination working overtime. My first instinct was, naturally, Sasquatch.

Winston and I climbed out of the tent, swept the area with a flashlight, found nothing, did what needed doing, and went back to bed. The trees were simply settling the way trees do in cold weather. Probably.

We woke to a cold, beautiful morning. Everything was coated in frost that was already starting to melt as the sun came up. Winston did a full lap of the campsite at speed to assess the overnight smells situation. I made coffee and sat with it for a while. There is just something about coffee made at a campsite that tastes better than it has any right to.

We explored a bit more before packing up and heading home. One night, that was all it was. But it was exactly what it needed to be. A quiet reset at the end of one year and the start of another, with good company, a decent fire, and a sky that put on a show nobody asked for.

Welcome, 2023.

If you are looking for more camping stories or want to find your own quiet spot, check out the adventures archive or browse the state parks guide for more places worth visiting in the Midwest.