Camping is a fairly artificial construct, at least the way we do it: drive to a designated campground, keep our fires confined to a pre-constructed fire ring, pitch a store-bought tent and zip ourselves in from the chill of the night. Still, it’s a night spent with our backs on the cold hard dirt, miles from any electricity or traffic, our ears hearing only birds and deer and our eyes adjusted only to starlight. It’s something. And it’s how we slept (or tried to sleep) out in the Gila National Forest this week.