The reaction I receive when describing my stay in the dunes to people typically goes one of two ways. Their eyes get wide and they say, "That sounds amazing! How peaceful!," or their eyes get wide and they say "You are crazy. Why would a person want to do something like that?" While I've never actually gone camping, I know it must be far more rustic than this. At least the shack has floors, walls, and a ceiling to give protection from the wilderness. The latter reaction, I think, may have more to do with the idea of being isolated at night within a physical structure without electricity. For instance, about a month ago I found myself re-watching the movie Silence of the Lambs. I knew this was foolish considering how fresh it would be in my memory during the shack stay, but I didn’t realize just how foolish until the sun went down and an uncanny resemblance between the aesthetic of the Fowler shack and the interior of the home of Buffalo Bill emerged. To conquer any growing fears I light every single lantern in the shack, pour myself a strong drink, and crank the transistor radio. If all else fails I remember that my father, in an upgrade over the baseball bat he gave me for my 2010 stay, has bestowed me with an ax.