CA
Christian Atzinger
Jul 8, 2025
I crossed the border that morning, armed with a list I wouldn’t need, because I knew the moment I walked into Camping World in Burlington, I would forget everything I came for.
The smell hits you first. That unmistakable mix of fresh nylon, unwrapped propane hoses, and the faint excitement of new lanterns still in their boxes. It’s the scent of summer lakes you haven’t paddled yet, of mountain air not yet climbed into, of the quiet promise of mornings spent in camp chairs before the rest of the world wakes up. Speaking of camp chairs—I have never seen so many in one place, each one daring you to sit, lean back, and imagine the crackle of a fire just beyond your boots.
The staff—so friendly it almost feels suspicious, but it isn’t. They just know why you’re there, and they like it too. They guide you through aisles of awning clips you didn’t know you needed and sewer hoses that somehow become the most exciting thing you’ve bought in weeks. They nod knowingly when you mention the Wenatchee River Valley or the San Juan Islands, like they understand the quiet Canadian quest to find the perfect ocean or lakeside pull-through site.
The parking lot? Plentiful, roomy enough for your truck, your SUV, your RV, your uncle’s RV, and the boat you towed down just in case. You can pull in without sweating, knowing that on your way back, you’ll need the space for the new folding table you couldn’t leave without.
Camping World, Burlington is more than a store; it’s a prelude. A warm-up to summer adventures that smell like canvas and promise. I went in for a water filter. I left with a folding chair that cradles me like a hammock and the certainty that I’ll be back.
Because even just south of the 49th, adventure always finds you when you smell that first hint of new camping gear