I strip to my bandeau and return to the cast iron Lodge pan in the sink, an expensive and intimidating piece I probably shouldn't touch.

The sun is setting, but the only orange thing we see is a fluorescent fungus, a gorgeous specimen with overflowing folds.

We hopped back on dry land and rounded a bend. Ahead of us, a brown bear strolled toward us like a casual fellow hiker.

We’re on a mission to find something we lost, and we know exactly where to look: where the white pine recedes to chalky scree.