It’s late afternoon, and I’m lying flat on my back in my tiny one-person tent, barely big enough to fit myself and my backpack. Thunder booms overhead, and the wind shakes my tent violently. I tug my sleeping bag tighter, watching as raindrops pelt my tent, occasionally reaching up to knock away the pooling water…

It’s 5:30 p.m., and I’m sitting at my campsite at 9,100 feet. It’s mid-October in the mountains, and the temperature is dropping fast. It’s too early for bed, and I still need to make dinner, put my food in the bear hang, and filter water. My mind leans toward the lazy option—could I get by…

It’s 5 a.m., and I’m sitting alone, cross-legged in the dirt, 12 miles from the nearest road in a remote corner of the Anza Borrego Desert. I’m tired, sore, my fingers are freezing, and I’m questioning my life choices. As I look out over the ridge where I camped the night before, I had one…