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It started innocently. I had a free Friday, a truck with a quarter tank, and that dangerous feeling of competence you get after watching two YouTube videos. So I opened a chat window and typed the words that would define my weekend:
“Plan me a 3-day camping trip in the Uinta Mountains. Include a full packing list.”
What came back was fourteen pages long. It had section headers. It had a morning stretching routine. It had a packing list with 87 items, including, I am not making this up, a stainless steel fondue set.
The itinerary
Day one was reasonable: drive up, set camp, “enjoy golden hour.” Fine. Day two is where the AI revealed it had never actually been outside. It scheduled a 4:30 a.m. summit of Bald Mountain, followed by a “leisurely 12-mile lakeside loop,” followed by “fondue night.”
Twelve miles is not leisurely. Twelve miles at 10,000 feet is a cry for help.
I want to be clear that I did bring long forks. For safety.
The packing list
Here is a representative sample of what the AI felt I needed:
| Item | Verdict |
|---|---|
| Headlamp with red light mode | Genuinely great call |
| Tent, 4-person | Yes |
| Fondue set + “assorted dipping breads” | No |
| Bear spray | Yes |
| “A journal for reflections” | I wrote one reflection. It was about the fondue. |
| Microspikes | It’s September |
| Portable bidet | I have questions |
To its credit, the headlamp recommendation was spot on. The one I bought has a red mode, charges off the truck, and was the single most-used item of the trip, mostly to find things the fondue set had knocked over.
Rechargeable LED Headlamp (300+ lumens)
The one item the AI got unambiguously right. Red-light mode so you don't blind your tentmate. Buy two, because you will lose one.
What actually happened
Friday went great. I set up the tent in about 20 minutes (the AI budgeted 90, which, rude), and watched the sun go down over a lake that looked like a screensaver. Ten out of ten. No notes.
Saturday I slept through the 4:30 alarm because I am a grown man, hiked about four miles, and spent the afternoon reading in a hammock. The AI did not schedule hammock time. The AI does not understand hammocks.
Then came fondue night.
I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to melt a pound of Gruyère over a camp stove at altitude in 38-degree air, but the cheese does not so much “melt” as “sulk.” It formed a kind of dairy asphalt. I ate it with a long fork, for safety, while a chipmunk watched me with what I can only describe as pity.
Would I do it again?
Yes, with edits. The AI is a great brainstormer and a terrible editor. It knows what gear exists; it does not know what gear matters. So here’s my revised rule: let the robot make the list, then cross off everything you wouldn’t carry up a flight of stairs.
The fondue set lives in my garage now. It’s a very nice fondue set. It will never see a mountain again.
Stainless Steel Fondue Set
Listed under "camp essentials." It is not a camp essential. It did, however, make an excellent bear-deterrent noise when it fell off the picnic table at 2 a.m.
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4-Person 3-Season Dome Tent
Rated for four, comfortable for two and a dog, which is the same math as every tent ever made.
