The Night the Rain Came and the Coleman Sundome Tent Held

The rain started a little after eleven. I know because I had just looked at my watch and was doing the math on how long it would take us to throw everything in the back of the CR-V if the tent gave out. Ray was already asleep on his pad. I lay there listening to that first heavy slap of water on the roof, waiting for the seam over my shoulder to start dripping.

I should be honest about where I started with this. I have owned exactly one tent before the Coleman Sundome, a generic dome with a zipper that quit on me last fall. In February I carried it out to the curb. So when I bought the 4-person Sundome in the first week of March, it was not a purchase I had thought about for years. We needed a tent, and I had read enough reviews to know what I was getting.

My first pitch was in the backyard on a Saturday morning in March, with the instruction sheet laid flat on the grass and a coffee going cold on the step. Thirty minutes. I am not naturally good at this. The poles slide through sleeves rather than clipping on, and that took me two tries to get right. By the end of the season I was pitching it alone in about fifteen minutes, mostly because Ray unloads the car now and leaves me to it.

The size suits how we camp. It is a 4-person tent with a 63 square foot floor, and the two of us sleep on it with room to leave our bags at our feet instead of in the car. It weighs 10 pounds in the carry bag, which matters when you are the one walking it from the trunk to the pad. It is free standing, so I can pick the whole thing up and shift it two feet when I stake a corner wrong.

Two windows, a zippered door, and a rainfly that comes with it. That is the entire feature list, and for a car camping tent in a state park with a bathhouse 200 yards up the gravel loop, that is enough.

A tent that leaks turns a whole morning into a salvage operation. A tent that does not leak gives you back the morning.

The night that decided it for me was a weekend in May, when the forecast went from a chance of showers to something else entirely by dark. I put the rainfly on the Coleman Sundome before supper because I do not trust a forecast. The rain started around eleven and did not stop. I lay there for an hour waiting for the floor to go damp under my pad. It never did. We woke at six to a dry floor, dry bags, and one wet towel I had left hanging on the picnic table.

The tent is rated for three seasons, and the rainfly carries a 1500 mm water resistance coating. I am not going to tell you it will keep you dry in any storm that exists. I am telling you it kept us dry through one long all-night rain in May with the fly on, and I have pitched it the same way every weekend since.

What it will not do: you cannot stand up in it. I am 5 foot 4 and I can kneel, not stand, and Ray at six feet has to duck going through the door. There is no real vestibule, so wet boots come inside with you or sit in the car. And in July, with both windows zipped, it gets warm in there by mid morning, so I open them first thing.

Where it earns its keep is the pitch. Fifteen minutes, one person, no arguing. I have watched people fight with a bigger tent for forty minutes at the site next to us while their coffee went cold. That is the trade I made, and I would make it again.

The morning after that rain I made coffee on the stove while Ray wiped down the fly with a towel and hung it over the CR-V to dry. That is the other thing I did not expect. A tent that leaks turns a whole morning into a salvage operation. A tent that does not leak gives you back the morning, and I have come to think that is the actual product.

What I'd Tell You If We Were Sitting at My Kitchen Table

If you were sitting at my kitchen table, here is what I would say. If you camp two nights at a time out of the back of a vehicle, at a campground with a bathhouse and a gravel loop, and you want a tent that goes up alone in fifteen minutes and stays dry with the rainfly on, the Coleman Sundome is a sensible buy and I would hand you the same recommendation. If you are backpacking, it is not your tent. Ten pounds is car weight.

If you camp in real cold, look elsewhere. It is a three-season tent and I have not used it past October. If you are tall, get down on the floor of one before you buy and see how the door feels. And if you want a tent you can stand up and dress in, put your money on something taller. I would rather you hear that from me now than work it out in the rain at eleven at night.