Posts Tagged ‘solitude’

Sweet Solitude

My headlights finally revealed a pullout on a dark dirt road for me to call it a night.  I hadn’t spent a night alone in the wilderness in nearly four months.  It was nice to scare myself a bit again, to let my mind wonder about what might be lurking nearby.

A broken Whisperlite meant numb-fingered stove maintenance.   Full of tea and sweet couscous, I hopped on my bike and headed north on Coxey Rd.  I easily pulled my bike around the gate, “Closed for winter.”  Soon I realized that the road was blocked for good reason as I endured miles of the iciest mountain bike ride ever.  Before I knew what I was doing, I set down my bike and wandered through the pines out to a ridge in the middle of a canyon.  I was humbled.  It had been far too long since I’d been so overwhelmingly alone.

“This is where I belong,” I told myself.  “I’m out in the wilderness, all by myself.  I can’t see or hear anyone, and nobody knows where I am.”

Base Camp