I don’t remember the time I went spelunking very well, but the wet walls and unrelenting darkness still stick with me. I remember the times I fell behind, not able to see anyone but hear their voices echoing through small limestone gaps. As a thirty-year-old man, this terrifies me. However, I was at the age where the novelty of exploring outweighed the danger. What if I got lost? Would I die of starvation or thirst? Or worse still, what if I wasn’t alone?