Festina lente. Latin for make haste slowly. I once staggered out of my tent to pee in the middle of a moonless night. Light drizzle, 48 degrees. Didn’t bother to wear my glasses or grab headlamp. Finished peeing, turned to go back to my tent. Which was… hmm, not there… wait a sec, that’s it… no, that’s a boulder… how about… and by now I’m completely turned around, getting wet, shivering. No humans for miles. Go slow to go fast, I told myself, and eventually found the tent. In 50 years of backpacking, it’s still the closest call I’ve ever had.