It sounds to me like you're trying to avoid taking any undue risks with your safety, and are well aware of your limits. So you can probably put the doubts out of your head and just enjoy your time alone. I know what those experiences are like, when the universe is a place of perfect peacefulness. One of my favorite memories ever is of a quiet sunset on a trail back in Austin. I'd hiked into the greenbelt alone one day after work, and was enjoying a rest on a large boulder in a dry rocky creekbed. A man with a saxophone had perched himself high on a bluff to the east, and I watched the red and golden hues of the sunset climb the bluff as he sat playing his slow and somber solos. I never met him, didn't need to. It was beautiful.

Something within compels me to climb that blasted rock. A friend in town for a couple of days and I drove the Apache Trail from Lake Roosevelt last week. It was well after dark when we passed Superstition Mountain. I could see its shape rising against the moonlit sky, and found it both terrifying and fascinating. It was saying something to me. I don't know what, but I intend to go back and listen some more.