It’s a painful process, having a thought and attempting to put it to words. I was contemplating something someone posted on a search and rescue operation in our local newsgroup. A group of people was out exploring our desert in their Jeep before getting stuck. Other than being mired in sand, no one was hurt, the vehicle wasn’t damaged and the weather wasn’t dangerous. Yet many people made a big ruckus about the group being out alone in a single-vehicle.
My main thought about this is, whatever happened to the American spirit?
We used to be people who could take care of ourselves, we would break out to seek new opportunities. We weren’t paralyzed by fear of the unknown. Not to overdramatize or romanticize going alone and looking for adventure, but being prepared to survive in unforgiving environments was a very American value for a very long time.
Back in 1995 I really got into mountain biking. I purchased a Specialized rockhopper, front suspension, rigid tail. I would bike in my local mountains four to five days a week. Around the local lake, down in Orange County, San Diego County, and everywhere in-between. I would eventually get to be a centenarian cyclist. Yes, I would ride up to and over three-digit miles in one day, and those would be solo miles. After my five-year love affair with cycling, I put close to 25k miles on that bike. I learned early on that being prepared was more than just a catch-phrase. Once in my early mountain biking adventure, approx 30 miles from home, I had a flat tire. I didn't have tire irons, a spare tube, or even a pump. It was a long walk home, and one I only did once. The next day I went down and bought an extra tube, repair kit, pump, and tire irons. I then practiced a few times at home, using the tools. The next flat tire I had, was only a momentary pause in the ride, and not a long walk.
I would carry more water and food than I needed for the planned ride. I utilized a Camelbak Mule, brought an extra layer of clothes, two bottles of water on the bike frame, a frame-mounted took kit, and a trip computer. While I was loaded down, I never had a life-threatening event. I would cycle year-round and experimented with a lot of different base and outer layers until I found a light reliable comfortable system that worked for me. I also learned a lot about taking care of my gear. Preventative maintenance on the bike, how not to damage the bike on the trail, how to repair it if something did happen, while getting huge air while descending a mountain is fun, the possible bent spoke, or damaged hub would end the day quickly! (same with water crossings as I found out while cycling Carbon Canyon Canyon in Brea. After a long descent, before returning to the trailhead, there is a water crossing that is a great way to cool down before loading up the bikes. The problem, a hot bike hub, will suck that water in and seize the bearings! I did that once.
I did go on a few rides with friends and small groups, but never really enjoyed myself. While I was putting a lot of miles on the bike, I didn't have a very fast pace, which seemed to be a pain when traveling with others, so I did my own thing most of the time.
Fast forward two decades and I started to get into hiking, and again I wanted to go it alone. Which I did. A medium-size pack, food, and water, additional layers, good quality gear, and away I went. I spent a lot of time in our local mountains, shaking down the gear that worked for me, a good balance of weight and usefulness. Never once did I fear the solo hike. I had confidence in my gear, my abilities, my decision-making. I eventually felt confident to tackle a hard hike. A rim to river and back in the Grand Canyon. While it would be a solo hike for me, you're never alone at the Grand Canyon!
A three-day solo camping trip, to stretch my legs and plan a further adventure as well as a shakedown to see if I was up to the challenge. So after a little internal debate and wanting to get away from some of the crowds, I decided to head down the Grand View trail, to the Horshoe Plateau, instead of the river. There was still a lot of ice on the trail, temps on the rim were in the low thirties. It turns out it was the better decision. Either I didn't sleep as well as I had hoped or dinner didn't agree with me, by the time I made it to the plateau I was not feeling very well. a quick snack then I made the decision to start the climb up. The return climb to the trailhead would be a torture hike. I ended up stopping every 100 yards or so. I made it out of the canyon that day. thinking back on it, I have no regrets, other than I should have stopped sooner. That was the closest I had come to need a rescue. I should mention that at the time I was 43, not in my best shape, yet I went for it!
I say all that to say, there is nothing wrong with solo adventure. Getting stuck happens, getting sick happens, plans go sideways. It's not that bad things happen, it's how we deal with them that matters. I read a lot of stories and track them on Twitter of all the people lost, injured, or who pass away in national, state, and public lands. There are a lot of people who seek adventure and don't think of the what if's. They go out without food, water, shelter. I don't think it's harsh to say that many Americans are just too separated from the natural world, to really understand the dangers... But that's not a commentary of the solo-adventurer!
For more solo-adventurers...
Jason @BeardedOverland www.beardedadv.blogspot.com
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