All By Myself

(I hope you sang the title in your head)

Solo adventure - December 2008

The other day a friend who is plotting a big solo trip asked how you deal with fear on solitary adventures? Such a great question! In the last couple years my anxiety has spiraled out of control with many things, but with solo trips it’s been alright. Anxiety aside, I think fear plays an important role in safe adventuring because it keeps you aware of potential dangers and allows you to determine if you have the skills to address them. Fear, unfortunately, can easily keep you from stepping out the door at all, but in the best case scenario, a healthy level of fear lets you leave the house with a Plan B for when things go wrong. See an abridged list of my fears below.

Helpful Fears

• Wind – the worst at foiling plans
• Lightning – the second worst
• Dumb deer – seriously, why don’t they run away from headlights? Why would headlights ever be an ok thing?
• Cliff edges – everyone trips, I trip all the time, so be careful
• Driving accidents – people are the worst
• Contaminated water – fecal coliforms, Giardia, brain-melting amoeba… choose your water carefully
• Bears
• Drowning

Unhelpful Fears

• Murder deer in the woods – not a thing, but I still worry about them
• Vagina bugs in the water – also not a thing, go ahead and skinny dip
• People creeping through your camp to murder you in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere – if someone wanted to murder you they would do it faster than that (direct quote from my mom, who is probably right)

Since I could use a good laugh, here’s a list of some of the things that have gone wrong on my solo adventures.

Should have used that time to develop my artistic side

1. I had to be rescued by the Park Service on my first solo vacation. Thirty minutes into a kayaking excursion on Lake Powell the wind started blowing hard and never stopped, so I spent 5 hours alone on a beach I couldn’t paddle away from. I through the guide book I packed several times (Birds of Western North America) before I swallowed my pride, called 911 (the only way to get hold of the park service in that primitive area) and was rescued by a boat with flashing lights. I can still taste that humble pie.

   

   Big ole sunglasses hiding my tears

2. Hit a deer and totaled my car. Driving back from a solo trip to Capitol Reef, where I went to just cry for a while, I hit and killed a deer and it disabled my car. I was stuck in Bicknell, UT in November for an extra 24 hours and it felt like I had to ask everyone in Wayne County for help. I couldn’t have gotten to my rental car without the help of a whole fleet of people and am eternally grateful for their help. It restored my faith in humanity, but I maintain that driving is the most dangerous thing we do on any adventure. And mule deer are the worst.

   

   It's hard to capture fear in a landscape picture

3. Cried and ran away from lightning in the Uinta’s. Thunder-snow is terrifying. Everything around you is shaking and electrified. Running for my life was not an appropriate response to lightning (should have squatted on the balls of my feet, being as small as possible) and slipping on slick rocks while crying (literally) made me feel like a spazzy dumbass. Something like that seems to happen every time I get a little cocky. Monsoon-seasonal thunderstorms are expected at high elevations and I’m really glad I bagged King’s Peak before it came in. The next night it snowed enough to collapse my tent. 

   

   I spend a lot of time looking for cool poops. This bear poop is the coolest I've found

4. Carried around a bear-bonking stick while hiking in the Abajo Mountains; kept losing my bear-bonking stick. Situational awareness (noticing important elements of your environment and what they mean for your safety) is as important as starting with a good plan. Noticing both the bear warnings at my campground and the bear poop on the trail helped me be alert to the potential to find a bear. I can’t verify that bonking sticks are useful, but it made me feel safe. Unfortunately, I lost my stick every time I bent down to take a picture of flowers. Not the most peaceful hike I’ve taken. 

   

   Top of the Henry Mountains - home to the scariest deer in the world

5. Cuddled with a hatchet or pepper spray in my sleeping bag more than once. I once had to sleep in a rest stop in rural Washington because I was going to fall asleep in a snow storm if I didn’t pull over, so I slept in the cab of my truck snuggling a keychain pepper spray. A year later I threatened a bunch of deer outside my tent in the Henry Mountains with a gun; I had no weapon and they did not understand the threat. After I caught a deer licking my car in the LaSal mountains I spent the rest of the night with a hatchet next to my pillow, just in case. 

   

   Pretty. Not great camping conditions though

6. I visited Bryce Canyon around Christmas instead of going to St. George as planned. Bryce Canyon is at 7,000 feet and was under a foot of snow. I couldn’t get a fire started so fed myself by warming up Clif Bars on the electric heaters in the bathroom. An ice crust formed on the outside of my sleeping bag and crunched every time I moved, which I interpreted to be someone creeping across the snow outside to murder me. I did not sleep.  

Hopefully it’s clear that the fear never leaves, but is sometimes helpful. After more than a decade of solo adventuring, I do have some advice in addition to my anecdotes.

• Make a plan for what you will do with each day but also expect things to go wrong.
• While planning be explicit about the risks that are present and if they are acceptable. Getting lost is an acceptable (probable) risk for me. Free solo climbing is not.
• Have a check-in person who knows where you’ll be and when to expect you back in cell service.
• Check the weather and understand the effects of elevation on temperature and precipitation. We live in a magical time of smart phones with radar apps. Use them when possible.
• Pack carefully. I like to bring reading and writing materials for long, cold nights or days I am stranded. Having something comforting, like a hatchet, when I am scared is a bonus.
• Develop deer-eyes that check for deer on the side of roadways. And don’t drive through Wayne/Sevier Counties at night.

Solo trips give you the chance to peep wetlands without any mockery or impatience.

I’m a big believer in the solo vacation if it’s something that has ever piqued your curiosity (but it’s not for everyone). It definitely requires an honest assessment of you capabilities, but really, you’re more capable than you give yourself credit for. I tend to feel all the things very strongly, from elation to regret, while I’m out alone, but I think that’s one of the best parts of solo adventures. I guess what I’m saying with all of this is to expect a least one thing to go wrong when out of solo trips, but it will be alright.

I read this quote in a Banff Film Festival magazine years ago and I’ve put it in several blogs because it’s still the best summation of solo adventuring I’ve read:

The line between badass and dumbass is not only fine, it is a grey, wavy line, and in a different place for each individual. It’s hard to recognise, easy to miss, and painfully clear when overstepped. It’s the concept of pushing hard and not giving up, balanced against blind ambition and getting in too deep. Basically, when you start to get really scared, you are probably approaching your line.
-Leo Holding