RV Site vs Tent Platform: The Boondocker's Real Choice

My hands were deep in the trunk of my Subaru, wrestling a two-burner stove from under a week’s worth of dehydrated meals, when the couple in the RV next door fired up their generator. It coughed to life like a sick animal, then settled into a drone that vibrated up through my sneakers. I paused, bag of freeze-dried chili in hand, and watched them settle into their molded plastic chairs, faces glowing blue from a tablet screen. The pines above us swayed silent, patient. I felt a knot tighten in my chest—not from the cold, but from the sudden weight of all that comfort.

That’s when I started eyeing the tent platforms across the campground. They were empty. Elevated wooden decks set among pines, each with a 360-degree view and zero infrastructure. No electric posts. No water spigot. Just a flat, dry place to pitch a tent. And I realized I’d made a classic mistake: I chose convenience over adaptability.

The Hookups Trap

Full hookups sound great on paper. You get 30-amp electric, city water, and sewer. You can run a space heater, microwave, even a small air conditioner. For a base camp, you’d think that’s ideal. But here’s the rub: power and water come with strings attached. You’re confined to a site that’s often in the sunniest, most exposed part of the campground (because that’s where the utility lines run). You’re also paying a premium—often $10–20 more per night than a tent platform.

Worse, hookups encourage bad habits. With unlimited power, you don’t think about battery state of charge. With unlimited water, you don’t conserve. With sewer, you don’t think about black tank capacity. But the moment you leave that RV site—say, to boondock on public land—you’ll scramble to adjust. I’ve met too many RVers who panic when their battery drops below 80%.

The Tent Platform Advantage

Tent platforms are the unsung heroes of dispersed camping. They’re usually tucked in the trees, offering shade and shelter. Because they’re elevated, you don’t get that cold ground seeping into your sleeping bag at night. And since there’s no power, no water, no sewer, the price is lower—sometimes as low as $10 a night in national forests.

But the real benefit is flexibility. A tent platform forces you to be self-reliant, which is exactly what you need for a multi-day base camp. You carry your water (I use two 5-gallon collapsible jugs). You charge your devices via solar panel or a portable power station (I swear by the Jackery 500). You cook on a camp stove. You dig a cat hole or use a vault toilet. It’s more work, sure. But it’s liberating.

On that Colorado trip, I switched to a tent platform for the last three nights. My site was under a canopy of ponderosa pines. I set up my tent right on the wood deck, staking it through the gaps. I hung a tarp for rain cover. I cooked my meals on a small table with a view of the San Juans. No generator. No noise. No chain.

What to Pack for a Tent Platform Base Camp

If you’re considering the platform life, don’t just show up with a tent and a sleeping bag. Here’s what I’ve learned:

• A platform-compatible tent: Most platforms are 10x10 or 12x12. A 4-person dome tent fits perfectly. Avoid huge cabin tents that may overhang. Use a footprint or ground cloth to protect your tent floor from splinters.
• Guy lines with extra stakes: Platforms have gaps between boards. Use long stakes (9 inches or more) driven into the ground through gaps. If the platform is too solid, tie off to nearby trees or the platform legs.
• Water storage: Plan on 1 gallon per person per day. Collapsible jugs are lightweight. Bring a water filter or purification tablets for refills from streams or spigots.
• Power: A portable solar panel (I use a 100W foldable) and a power bank. Charge during the day, use at night. A small inverter generator is backup only, and only if you’re far from others.
• Cooking setup: A two-burner camp stove on a folding table. Avoid cooking on the platform itself—wood can catch fire. Keep a fire extinguisher nearby.

The Self-Reliance Trade-Off

Here’s the honest truth: if you’re the kind of camper who wants to roll in, plug in, and not think about water or battery, an RV site is for you. No shame in that. But if you want to feel like you’re actually camping—if you want the freedom to pack up and move without worrying about utility disconnects—choose a tent platform.

I’ve done both. And for a 5-day base camp, I’ll take the platform every time. The quiet alone is worth it. At night, I hear the wind in the trees, not the hum of a transformer. In the morning, I wake up to birds, not the drone of a neighbor’s generator.

One More Thing: Location Matters

Not all tent platforms are created equal. In Colorado’s national forests, many platforms are first-come, first-served. In state parks like those in Oregon, you can reserve them online. Some are walk-in only, requiring a short hike from your car. That’s fine for a base camp—you’ll use the platform as your central spot and leave gear there during day hikes.

But if you’re car camping and want easy access, look for platforms near parking. The tent-platforms category on glamping.directory lists options nationwide. Read reviews carefully—some platforms are sloped, some have no shade, some are right next to vault toilets (avoid those).

The Verdict

My Colorado mistake taught me a lesson: base camps are about the experience, not the amenities. I spent more time sitting around the campfire, journaling, and watching stars because I wasn’t tethered to a power pedestal. I felt like a real camper, not a temporary resident of a gravel lot.

Next time you’re planning a 5-day trip, ask yourself: do I want to be plugged in, or do I want to be present? The answer will tell you whether to book an RV site or a tent platform. Choose wisely—and pack your solar panel.