We followed a desert wash for six hours once. Didn’t think to turn around until the grumbling in my stomach told me that we were due for dinner. I had set out to stretch our legs for a few minutes, but then I noticed a set of kangaroo rat tracks and I just had to see where that little rascal went. Then there was a particularly statuesque juniper that’s medicinal fragrance drew me closer. Then I saw a cave cut into sandstone just a little ways away that begged to be explored. Osa and Jasper were right there with me, as they always are, sniffing this and investigating that. They were just as enticed as I was, like little detectives with their noses to the earth and tails wagging eagerly behind them.

That’s quite common for me when I camp; losing track of time, wandering endlessly, letting my curiosity guide my feet.

It’s a habit that poses challenges when confined to city streets. Crowded concrete doesn’t lend itself to aimless meandering. There are too many agendas, too much “hurry up” and “get out of my way.” We like to go where the only schedule to keep follows the cycle of the stars and meal time, where our primitive desire to explore is not only accepted, but rewarded by the treasures we find and the experiences we share. It’s why I carve out so much of our lives to be spent outdoors.

We go for the freedom.