THE CREVICE IS LITTLE more than a crack in the rough terrain, barely 50 centimetres wide. curious, seth rowe stands at its edge, poised to go in. it is just before noon on 20 June 2015. The sun peeks out but it is still chilly in the nottawasaga Bluffs, a rugged area in a snow belt about 140 kilometres northeast of Toronto, canada.

Seth knows the temperature inside the crevice will hover around minus two degrees Celsius. But he loves the challenge of exploring caves and crevices, and he figures that his jeans, T-shirt and the sturdy jacket he carries should be protection enough. I won’t be in long, he thinks.

At heart Seth, now 31, a plumber and pipe-fitter, is still a daredevil kid—an avid hiker and hunter, charming and sometimes irresponsible. He knows that after a night of partying with his buddies, he should be at home. But his wife, Jamie, also understands that he has to get away every once in a while. It is as much a part of him as his love for her and their two children.

“You’re a bad boy,” Jamie, 25, always says. “It’s part of why I love you.”

Then again , he thinks, maybe this time I went too far. In his mind, he replays a conversation—okay, a fight—they had barely an hour earlier. “Where are you?” Jamie had asked on her mobile phone, her tone clipped and angry.

“In the forest,” he said.

“Come home now! Remember we’re all going to a movie later—and I need some help around here,” she replied, a pointed reference to Joella, four, and 15-month-old Wyatt.

“OK, I’ll be home in an hour,” he replied. He thinks: But not while you’re mad at me.