I have always wondered why many US hikers desperately try to find “paid” camping areas in Europe and then complain about them. Maybe I should explain how things actually work here, based on more than a decade of being a “homeless traveller” in Southern Europe.
Sure, there are some camping grounds where a farmer tries to earn a bit of extra money by letting hikers camp on their land. Usually they offer toilets, water and a sense of “community”, where tents are placed close together, people share stories and promote their gear.
Basically, you pay to be part of that “community”. I found such a place in Chamonix (French Alps), where tents were set up about 10 cm from each other and the price was over 10 EUR per night + 6 EUR per person.
I simply crossed the road to the free caravan and motorhome parking area and set up my tent in one of the parking slots.
In France, a “camping area” usually means a place to park your motorhome or caravan and connect it to water and electricity. That’s what you pay for. But some municipalities offer these areas for free as well.
Near Toulouse there are many such “homeless communities”, where people connect long cables to fuse boxes and hoses to firefighting stations to get electricity and water for their caravans. They live there with their families — and they are not even Gypsies.
Toulouse seems to be a very tolerant city for the homeless.
I have hiked through many national parks in France. Hiking does not always mean following marked trails or old pilgrimage routes. Often it simply means walking along a national road, putting your thumb up when a car approaches, and hoping for a few kilometers of a ride before walking again. There are beautiful roads with small villages and very little traffic.
When evening comes, I usually find a quiet spot near a stream or follow a forest maintenance trail to a deforested clearing where I can set up my tent.
Yes, French people have warned me about wild pigs, but so far only mosquitoes have bothered me.
Some of the best places have been “shopping areas” near cities. Real-estate developers often buy farmland near main roads to build commercial centers, and there are usually undeveloped patches of land nearby. You buy your wine and dinner from the supermarket, walk a little, find a quiet spot, set up your tent, drink your wine — and in the morning you have a toilet to brush your teeth and a supermarket for breakfast and supplies.
Sometimes there is a sign saying the land is for sale, but if there is no fence and no construction, nobody has ever bothered me.
And France is not the US — you are not automatically forbidden from camping on private land. If there is a clear “private property” sign, then obviously someone doesn’t want you there. Otherwise it’s usually fine. Most likely a farmer will show up in the morning with coffee and a sandwich rather than a gun.
In towns, public parks are also an option. If there is no “camping forbidden” sign, you are allowed to set up your tent. But this can be annoying because:
- Youth may come at night to drink and play loud music.
- Dog owners walk their dogs early, so barking may wake you up.
In Southern Europe, paying for camping is a kind of luxury most travellers can’t afford. Northern Europe is different — people there don’t like hitchhikers or hikers, especially in Sweden, Finland and the Netherlands. Germany has been fine so far, especially eastern Germany.
In Poland, I usually follow some track near a city and find a place where someone has camped before. Sometimes you find a “homeless person’s home” on those tracks, so I walk a bit further not to disturb them.
Luxembourg was one of my most pleasant experiences. Luxembourg City is designed with cycling roads and forest parks. If you follow a hiking–cycling path, you quickly reach forested areas outside the traffic. I walked up a hill, found a perfect spot for my tent — and it was only a 20–30 minute walk from a place where you could get free showers, morning coffee with a sandwich, and even do your laundry for free if you arrived early.
By the way, even though Luxembourg City technically has ticket prices for public transport, it’s practically free — it’s hard to buy a ticket and nobody checks them.
As I usually walk or hitchhike, locals were often surprised and recommended the “free bus”.
The same happened in Chamonix, where I tried to hitchhike and locals recommended their free bus. In France, regional buses often cost only 1 EUR, while city transport is more expensive. So low-budget travelling in Europe is absolutely possible — and you don’t need to waste money on paid camping sites or hostels.
