The Beach Igloo

The Beach Igloo

🌼 Date: Tuesday, June 30, 2026

⚡ Energy: Damp outside, toasty under the tarp

💝 Status: Rainy beach camping, but make it bougie

🥶 Outlook: We do not suffer. We adapt. With heaters.

Well, it has been raining every day here at the beach.

Every.

Day.

But our camping crew has been doing this long enough that rain does not exactly surprise us anymore.

At this point, Oregon coast weather is not a problem.

It is a group project.

And we come prepared.

Our solution?

The beach igloo.

Or maybe the higloo.

Heated igloo.

Camping mansion.

Rain bunker.

Card-playing shelter.

Whatever we want to call it, she is effective.

We use a pop-up canopy as the frame, then cover it with a big-ass white tarp.

Because subtlety is not the goal.

Staying dry is the goal.

Then we use a second tarp for side walls, attaching it through the grommets with carabiners onto the pop-up frame.

Instant wall system.

Instant rain protection.

Instant little beach cave of survival.

From the outside, it may look like we are hiding from the weather in a large white marshmallow.

And honestly?

We kind of are.

But inside?

Inside is where the magic happens.

And by magic, I mean warmth, card games, dice, snacks, music, and people who refuse to let rain ruin a perfectly good camping trip.

On one end of the table, we have a propane heater.

On the ground at the other end, we have an electric heater that keeps everyone’s legs and feet nice and toasty under the table.

Because nothing says rugged outdoors like strategically placed heat sources for maximum lower-body comfort.

There are lights hanging from the frame so we can play cards and dice after dark.

There is a Bluetooth speaker for music.

There are chairs.

There are blankets.

There is laughter.

There is probably food within arm’s reach at all times because this is our group, and apparently we do not gather unless there are snacks.

We do not suffer when we camp.

Let me be clear.

There is no noble freezing here.

No sitting in wet clothes pretending we are one with nature.

No shivering around a tiny smoky fire while everyone says, “This is fine.”

Nope.

We are older now.

Wiser.

More prepared.

And apparently much more interested in being dry and warm.

I am not even sure if we really camp anymore.

I think the word is glamp.

And I am okay with that.

Honestly, after this year, I have earned glamping.

Cancer, chemo, radiation, neuropathy, lymphedema, hormone blockers, low blood counts, nausea, and all the other nonsense can keep the “roughing it” experience.

I am choosing the heated tarp palace.

The cozy chair.

The blanket.

The lights.

The music.

The warm feet.

The protected card table.

The beach air without the beach rain dripping down my neck.

Call it camping.

Call it glamping.

Call it the higloo.

I do not care.

All I know is that we are dry, warm, together, and still making memories.

And that counts.

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One Badass Day at a Time