We didn’t bring a watch or a clock while camping, and our cell phones didn’t get service in the area. So an odd phenomenon resulted: We never had any idea what time it was. We’d squint up at the sun and go, “Looks like about 11am…” On the island, this barely mattered, because we had no other humans to coordinate schedules with, though it did make for unnecessary races home to beat a sunset that was hours away. At the campground on the mainland the same thing happened– and then we’d end up at a beach-side coffee shop shaking our heads that it was actually 7am. Once we went to “dinner” at the Cherry Hut in Beulah, Michigan (totally recommend) and saw a clock on the wall that said 3:15pm. I was like, “No way, must be wrong, it’s like 6pm.” And after our meal, I approached one of the guys seating people and said — “Hi, we just had dinner here, is there anything to do in the evenings nearby? Like a movie theater?” He gave me an odd look, which made more sense when we heard on the radio that it was just after 4pm. I was totally shocked at how relative time can be — did you spend hours on the beach or 30 minutes? Did a hike take four hours or two hours? Everything, both good and bad, lasted longer, so each day went on seemingly forever, with every sunset waiting until we were so sure it should be a sky full of stars already.