While I agree somewhat with the assessment that wanting to take vacations alone is a sign of unhealthy isolation; there are times solitude is desirable. Today, I am thinking of three reasons I love to hike alone:
- freedom to pursue my own pace
- opportunity for introspection (the examined life is well worth living).
- freedom from embarrassment
Recently, one of my co-workers reminded me, “If you wait to hike until you have a hiking buddy, there are lots of places you will never see.” She is right. I get the most out of seeing what I want, when I want – often on the spur of the moment. And, I enjoy traveling at my own pace.
It is amazing the places you can go, the things you can accomplish at your own pace.
Last week, I descended 33 switchbacks and a few miles into Monument Canyon. It was steep, slippery, and bruised my toes; but I learned a secret. If you stop and take off your boot, wiggle your toes and readjust your sock, your foot will get a refreshing second wind. I also learned why I love to hike alone. No one rushed me. No one twice my size tried to tow me through the canyon like a two-year-old drug through a shopping mall. No one tried to motivate me to move faster with false concern, “Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe you should have a doctor check out why you don’t have more energy.”
Today, I chose to hike upper No Thoroughfare Canyon. I contemplated John Denver’s lyric, “you know he’d be a poorer man if he never saw an eagle fly.” I decided I would be poorer if I never saw a turkey vulture fly, or heard a red tailed hawk, or had a humming bird buzz my neon backpack. At the canyon bottom, I stood in the cool of the shade, the sun arrested for the moment east of the rock wall, and breathed the early morning mountain scent of piñon pine and it was healthy, oh so healthy, to be alone.
Further along the unmaintained trail came a true scramble. A 30 to 40 foot putty colored dirt slide, devoid of footholds, made a near perpendicular plane into a wash overgrown with dense vegetation. It was going to be a three points of contact slip and slide, maybe four points – make that a five point contact crab crawl. And the best part? No one gave me advice. No one chaffed at how long it took me to choose the best route – or to seriously consider if I could manage the return incline once I got down. No one was there to witness my gamble, or my ungainly ascent, grasping and pawing back up the slide.
Oh, the places you can go, when you choose your own pace!
