Everything I do has purpose. Whether it be cooking dinner or preparing shelter or building a campfire to keep me company.
You have tons of time because you don’t waste on the internet or TV. I’m satisfied with the hours in the day for once.
Physical Challenge. You use all kinds of muscles and go to bed feeling tired. Walking miles upon miles, breaking wood, chopping wood or branches, hands start to callous, lift stuff, and lay on hard ground. I can feel myself become a lean, not mean fighting machine after two or three days roughing it.
Food taste better and more satisfying after a day outside. I am more inclined not to eat constantly throughout the day because the mind is focused on wonders around me or getting camp ready or finding my route, not boredom like when I am sitting in front of the TV or computer hunched over always wanting to eat something.
Go to bed after sunset, Rise with the sun: the two most magical times of the day.
Relaxing. Escape all stuff and responsibility at home.
It allows me to think. I always feel like I am going to return to civilization a better person after a few days solitude.
Very rarely do I get a chance to share it with someone, but when I do it is always a memorable time. And creates moments where we can talk about “that time we went camping.”
Fires are mystic. They are as good as a best friend when you are alone and cold. Or like a loved one, where it must receive constant attention and nurturing.
Such a fire will keep all night, with very little replenishing; and it makes a very sociable camp-fire, and one around which the most impossible reminiscences sound plausible, instructive, and profoundly entertaining.
-Mark Twain, Roughing It
It’s so beautiful out there.
Really liked this article and the pictures from http://runtramp.com/transvulcania201/.
Greg Highlighted this awesome quote out of the article for me, "Heck, it even makes us realise just how lucky we are that we exist at all. It’s a very cool thing."
I just started reading a Pilgrim at Tinker creek and there is quote from Annie Dillard that goes along the same lines: