I never thought about how often I travelled alone until I travelled with someone who had only travelled in groups—on tour, or on road trips with friends. I never thought of travelling alone as anything special—it was partly because I like travelling on my own time, at my own pace. I sometimes get so excited about a plan that I forget some the logistical troubles of travelling alone. Like the time I hiked to the bottom of a gorge, because I knew there was a very special swim spot under a waterfall. I had planned my roadtrip to include this spot and had already skipped it on a previous trip. Before the hike, park rangers explain the obstacles—a scramble across the river on rocks, a large smooth stone you must cross without wetting your shoes. I think the warnings were for people who might think this is a casual swimming hole and try to bring the while 4 generations of a family plus floaties for all. Another hiker later told me that when the ranger gave them the talk,each point was punctuated with:

“OR YOU WILL DIE.”

I initialed the permit and boopidy-booped down the 600 stair entrance to the trailhead. Halfway in, I realized how immensely stupid it was to be doing this alone. If I twisted my ankle, there was no way back but up the gorge or in a rescue helicopter. But I didn’t turn around (which actually would not have been easier anyway). I was careful and fine. I jumped into the pool at the base of the waterfall and floated looking up at the the gorge wall, which is my favorite favorite place to be. I met a pair of hiking buddies who helped me get my backpack across when I was done swimming and scrambled up the steep walls back to camp.

That is how I usually feel about travelling alone: blinded by adventure pausing at some point to realize I didn’t think things through.

By then it is often too late. I am in a hotel room in San Juan adjusting my derailleur and looking up bakeries for breakfast realizing I don’t enough cash. Or I am alone in my tent at a very secluded campsite (near another waterfall) and I swear I hear footsteps in the brush outside—it is drunk dudes from the next campsite or is it a bear? Or halfway into a solo hike appreciating the quiet around me and then momentarily concerned because no one knows where I am.

I never liked hitchhiking alone or sleeping in public spaces when on a bike trip. I always felt too exposed, but never brave enough to find a better spot. I never slept well and always got sick. But in the back of my truck in a campground, I mostly feel like a weirdo which is fine, that’s my life. I’ve slept alone in rest areas, hiked alone in other countries, travelled to cities where no one spoke english and I could not guess what any signs meant. I’ve done some stupid things. And I’ve had some really great times.

Last week I went to Silver Falls State park alone for 3 nights. Concussion recovery means I want quiet more often than I can get it. I feel like I can never drink enough quiet, always thirsty for more.. Driving still is tricky for me but it was about 50 miles, straightforward, and then I had a tiny cabin near an old growth forest to myself. I hiked, wrote, slept a lot. And missed my family. I like travelling alone. I like having my own slow schedule. I like eating from the same can of vegetarian baked beans for 3 meals. I like no one having to be on my schedule, no one waiting on me, and no one telling me I overplan.

This trip was a little like a writing retreat, a little like some time for healing. My partner and I had camping plans for 2 weeks after my injury but I was just too tired. We took a few brief day trips because I love swimming. I thought I was getting better enough for camping a month later but there was a 100 degree heat wave and it was cooler at our house. I can’t take care of others the way I used to, I can’t organize things and make sure everyone is packed or get up and make breakfast for everyone. I love to. I loved being in charge of meals when camping with friends. I love to plan and organize but it is exhausting . It is easier to travel alone sometimes. but not always what I want.

I like travelling and being alone and I am grateful for the family and friends who love me. I am grateful that the unearned confidence of my growing up white and middle class didn’t turn any of my trips into a tragic tv mini series. I am grateful to spend time in places where cars can’t be heard, or people, just two birds battling out the airspace.