Everyone who fishes, hunts, hikes or otherwise participates in nature periodically finds a need to rediscover what brought them there. It's not our fault we are all seekers of habit. Habits, to their fault, close our eyes to the intangibles in life, however. Nature isn't the place to bring such preoccupations.
Nature is where nothing else matters but itself.
There is a little creek in the woods behind the house where clear winter water runs on bedrock across mossy sandstones before emptying down to the lake. The land has been there forever. I've memorized the path descending from my back door into the woods, every turn and the deer trails which intersect it. I know the fallen trees, all of them, and the places where turkeys climb the hills in the spring and the wild blueberry bushes offer tiny fruits in July. Down the path I know so well even in darkness, across the creek in two steps and up a hill and into the night.